The Last Song of Orpheus
by FortuneHost
Summary: While held captive in Brightmoon, Commander Catra is visited by her once-friend and now-nemesis Adora, who takes this opportunity to have a long-overdue discussion between them. What neither realizes is that an ember of hope for the future may come from a story from the ancient past.
1. Canto I

From the Sagas of Culann.

Translated by Reuel the Inkling, humble servant of Queen Angela (long may she reign.)

_Hearken to me and hear the song of a warrior great and a heart even greater, a true son of Culann; that lineage of noble warriors whose reign was short but everlasting in glory, those lords and ladies whose raids and campaigns saw the reach of Brightmoon spread from the Growling Sea to the Wild Hunts of Þæjamor, children of the Horned God. Herein lies the account of Orþos, son of King Phænor, son of Freja Stoutheart, daughter of brave Sétanta, dubbed Truespear._

_In the waning days of the house of Culann, young Prince Orþos of Brightmoon set forth from his lands in pilgrimage to the silver dolmens of the Auldings, called also the First Ones, journeying through the Weald of Whispers. His sword he took not, for to bring weapons to the holy places is to court the ire of the seelie ghosts that keep watch over them. All upon him was his lyre, a gilded instrument from which he wrought great songcraft perhaps even more famed than his keen blade and dauntless courage._

_Twas' then that he was waylaid by a host of warriors. No mere bandits, their armour of blackened synth and holo-banners of bleeding red making apparent their allegiance as knights and yeomen from Shadowsun. Spake Orþos in his own defense;_

"_Gramercy noble lords, I have no quarrel with you. I am but a pious errant and my designs are naught but peaceful."_

_Beholding the coat upon the breast of Orþos Phænorsson, the swan-feather hunting dog upon a field of knoll-green, the leader of the band returned;_

"_Your deceit is in vain, for I know your arms, Hound of Culann. Well known are you to the clans of the Shadowfolk. Come now with us or your life is forfeit."_

_What villainy this aggression, for sacred law forbade conflict upon the hallowed ground. Many times, though, had King Phænor wronged the lords of shadow, and so for the sins of the father, young Orþos was taken captive._

* * *

Deep in the dungeons of Brightmoon Castle, all was still. Little prevailed against the silence save the occasional drip of water or the soft crackling of torchlight. Adora walked down the stone halls, nerves clenching her body more tightly with every step. Though she felt this was something that had to be done, she dreaded it immensely. How long had it been since they'd sincerely spoken with one another beyond mid-combat bravado? How many battles had their feud stoked? Despite all the time she'd been given to grow accustomed to it, to settle the matter, it still hurt whenever the two of them had to engage one another across the battlefield. How strange that seemed even now; to oppose each other in an arena they always assumed they'd march into as one. There wasn't anyone on either side of this conflict who would understand the full scope of this tragedy.

Turning a final corner, she reached her destination, a cell guarded by two of the helmed sentries of Brightmoon in their pastel armour, each unmoving as the inert stone that surrounded them. She knew that she technically outranked these two, but still felt a measure of trepidation in addressing the tall, stoic soldiers before her. After a quick salute she cleared her throat to speak.

"Guards, leave us."

One replied, the man's speech gruff and gravely.

"Are you certain? We were given strict orders to secure the prisoner and given her high-value status and priority-"

"I understand, but I need to do this on my own."

The other guard spoke, a woman with a slight yet unwavering voice.

"Be cautious, this is no ordinary soldier. Are you sure you will not require reinforcements?"

"I am, and believe me, there isn't a single person who understands better that she's anything but ordinary."

While that statement was undeniably true, there were a dozen ways it could be interpreted. Which one she meant was unclear, even to her.

Without another word, the sentries departed to report to their superiors for new assignments, leaving Adora alone with the prisoner. The cell before her was in stark contrast to the lavish decor of the upper palace floors, greenery and sculpture replaced here by bare stone and meager furnishings. Ironically, even these spartan surroundings were decadent in comparison to the standard lodgings of a Horde soldier like the kind they had been raised in.

"Catra?"

She heard soft footsteps on the cobbled floor and saw luminescent eyes glare at her from the shadows. Normally one would expect nothing save contempt in the gaze of an enemy captive, but Adora could see an entire spectrum of emotion in those eyes. Hatred, loathing, disgust, yet also pain, betrayal, fear, doubt; all warring with one another and vying to be the sole projection to the outside world.

"Hey… _Adora_."

It seemed venom and bile were the victorious sentiments. Adora sighed, she knew this was going to be difficult, but knowing and being prepared were two very different things, and here at the moment of truth, any semblance of that preparation dissolved. She'd practiced and rehearsed a hundred different versions of this conversation, yet somehow she still had no idea what to say.

"Well, here we are."

"Yep."

"How long has it been now?"

"A year, I think. Give or take."

"Feels so much longer…"

"Skip the small talk and get to your point."

"I would if I even knew where to begin."

"How about we start with what exactly do you think you're doing down here? Come to gloat, or did they sent you here to interrogate me?"

"I'm not here on anyone's orders."

"But you're still here to get me to talk though, aren't you? Let me guess, you're going to appeal to my better nature and save my soul, or are you hoping I'll flutter and faint just because mighty She-Ra asks it of me? Grow up, Adora."

"You're having this entire conversation with yourself."

"Just saving you the trouble, your Highness. I live to serve." she said, punctuating it with a sarcastic curtsy.

"Will you shut up and take this seriously?"

"Why should I? You're about as intimidating as a fuzzy slipper."

"That's not why I'm here."

"Then enlighten me."

"I… I guess you could say I'm looking for a friend."

"Which, the archer or the one that sparkles? I imagine they're both top-side."

"I'm trying to find _you_, you massive idiot!"

"Well, gold stars for everyone, you found me. Not like I'm difficult to find at the moment."

"I'm looking for the Catra I know and love. I want to know what you've done with her."

"She's gone and good riddance! The new me is far stronger and better, so you can forget ever going back to how it all was."

"Catra, please don't do this."

"Funny, I remember saying pretty much exactly that."

"I just want to talk."

"Well I don't, so leave! It's what you're good at."

Adora slowly walked away from the cell, her defeated heart feeling like lead in her chest, a lodestone of nauseous fear that she wasn't up to this task, or worse; that it was too late.

Catra simply smirked as she watched, confident that she'd been victor in this exchange. Yet if so… where was the sense of triumph she was expecting? Why was the only thing she felt this nondescript ache in the pit of her stomach?

* * *

_A pair of regards to curious readers who wish to know more._

_Regarding adherence to canon, I originally drafted and started writing this story after I finished watching Season 1, and had planned to finish it before 2... that didn't happen but I changed very little of it. Some of it does not align with how the show progresses, but reworking it would have required so much editing that it wouldn't be the same story anymore. With that said, I hope you enjoyed this for what it is, and that you look forward to the future chapters. Be sure to check out my other pieces here if you like romance, mythology, and even invented languages._

_Regarding pronunciation, the _**þ**_ & _**Þ**_ characters are pronounced as the "th" in "thimble," and the _**æ**_ & _**Æ**_ is pronounced like the "ay" in "play." Also note that the "j" in these sections is pronounced not as in "jelly" but rather as the "y" in "young. I used these archaic orthographies (or spelling conventions) in order to lend to a more ancient and mythical feel, as though the story of the House of Culann were written in the manner of a Norse saga. This includes letters that do not show themselves in Modern English, but were common in Dark Ages tongues like Ænglisc and __Dǫnsk._


	2. Canto II

The sound of a familiar voice was the first thing to greet Adora in the morning. Reluctantly she opened weary eyes, cringing against the bright light of day until her sight began to adjust. She saw Bow standing over her, a look of cheeky mirth on his face, essentially his default expression.

"What…" she groaned, almost unintelligibly, "What are you doing here? Ugh, and what time is it?"

"Eleven, that's why I'm here. You're usually the first one up, at an ungodly hour, I might add, and you _never_ miss breakfast."

"WHAT?!"

Her heart skipped a beat, an old terror of reprisal surging through her veins, her mind scrambling, grasping at any excuse or explanation.

"I'm sorry, I'll be up right away-"

"_Chill_, Adora… chill. No one's mad, I was just a little worried, that's all."

Her pulse slowly returned to normal as she was reminded of her surroundings, around those with no interest in punishing her for the 'crime' of sleeping in. Even as her panic subsided, she watched Bow's face lose its cheerfulness and become concern.

"Another symptom of Horde upbringing, I take it?"

"Yeah… yeah, anyone who slept in, well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. I'll leave it at that."

"These flashbacks of yours seem to be happening a lot more lately. You know, I still don't know how you missed the Horde being the bad guys."

"Look, it was all I knew, so none of it really struck me as abnormal or out of order. We were told that this was the way the world worked and then we weren't ever allowed outside the Zone. We never got the chance to see the truth for ourselves or make up our own minds."

"Still, you seem to have kept a good heart despite it all. Anyway, before we get too off track, what gives, sleepyhead?"

"I… I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Anything to do with our new friend in custody?"

"What makes you say that?"

"No offense, but you're kind of an easy read. Besides, I still remember back when we first met and seeing your little stand-off with her. Even if I hadn't heard the exchange it was pretty obvious the two of you at least knew each other. Never got the whole story though, but I didn't feel like it was my place to pry or pressure you. I figured when or if you ever wanted to, you'd talk on your own."

"Wow, that… I appreciate that, really, I do. It's definitely one of those 'long stories,' but maybe it wouldn't hurt to come clean."

"Well if you're needing to tell it," he said, pulling up a chair, "I've got some free time right now. Fire when ready."

"I guess the only way to start would be at the beginning. We've known each other since we were little, before I can even remember. Until I came here, there hadn't been a single day we were apart."

"So you two were pretty close."

"I don't know, 'close' doesn't really tell the whole story. We played together, got in trouble together, trained, fought, lived, and slept together."

Adora noticed Bow start, his body tense and raised in surprise.

"I… I beg your pardon? You _slept_ together?"

"Yeah, she'd always curl up at the foot of my bed."

"Ah, I guess that was just another case of 'Adora-doesn't-understand-euphemisms.'"

He referred to (yet another) culture shock she'd experienced since she arrived in Brightmoon. One that could still be called an "adjustment-in-progress." The fact of the matter was that Horde speech was direct and laconic, lacking in any of the poetry favoured in the high courts of Brightmoon. Euphemisms were almost unknown in the parlance of her homeland, the only exceptions being insults and thinly-veiled threats. Though the two factions shared a common language, small details like this only served to highlight the gap between them.

"Okay…" she said, "but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"For future reference; the phrase 'slept together' means something _very_ different to what you just described."

"I'll never understand why you don't just say what you mean around here… Anyway, when we get older our training gets more intense, they start pitting us against one another by keeping track and scoring us. Any friendships you had when you were young usually dissolve at this point, but not us. Sure, we got competitive, but unlike everybody else there was never any real hostility behind it. I still had her back and she had mine."

"From everything you've told me about growing up in the Fright Zone, the fact your relationship stayed so strong despite it strikes me as an absolute miracle."

"It wasn't just strong, it's what made us strong. When I think back, I think our friendship made it possible to survive there… Do you think I was wrong to leave? I mean, I just as I said that, I thought maybe what I did left her to the mercy of the Horde. When I escaped, you and Glimmer where there to help me out, but I left her without anyone to lean on, so am I a bad person for leaving someone behind like that?"

"Are you really asking me if it was a good thing to leave something that's straight-up called the _Evil Horde_?"

"I… I suppose, but I didn't help her."

He sighed, and though it was with great exasperation, she could tell it wasn't with her.

"Adora, you did. You helped her when you offered her a place with us, you tried to help her in the First Ones ruin. You've done plenty to help her, even despite herself."

"After all this time you'd think I would've adjusted to it all, found some way to accept this new normal. It's been how long now, a year or two? You think that'd be long enough, but no, I still want to rescue her. Still want to, but I haven't, and every day we're not back together feels like a loss and a failure. I still feel like she needs me."

"If you don't mind me saying, it sounds a bit like you need her."

"I'm not supposed to! I'm supposed to… to keep my distance! I still think about what Light-hope said, that forming attachments isn't supposed to be something a She-Ra does, because nothing matters more than the mission. She warned me what happened when Mara-"

"Adora, stop that. What Swiftwind told you was right, it was always nonsense, no matter the source. At the end of the day Light-hope is just a millennia-old hologram, programmed by the First Ones, sure, but programmed nonetheless. A string of ones and zeroes will _never_ understand what it means to be human, or what the heart needs."

"If you say so… but what to do about it? Am I setting myself up for failure here, is it worth it to even try?"

"It's always worth it. In fact, I think you should pay her a visit. If nothing else it may serve as closure, should the worst-"

"Don't… don't even say it out loud… but to your point; I already have been to see her, though I am kind of worried that if I go too often people will start to ask questions."

"Oh that's an easy fix, just tell them you've been assigned to her as interrogator, that you're down there under orders."

"That's not entirely… or even remotely honest."

"So? Glimmer and I can back you up. Sometimes a cover works better if multiple people are in on it."

"And so sneaky Bow returns."

"_Please_, he never left. I mean, even if you don't count my charade for my dads, you know how many times Glimmer and I have snuck out? Heck, when we met you we'd left without permission. Part of why two of us are friends is the mischief we've gotten up to."

Adora smiled coyly.

"And even if you didn't like each other, at this point you both know too much?"

Bow winked in response, "Precisely, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Welcome to the Best Friend Squad, we're all culpable in something!"

"In seriousness though, you're my hero. I know this whole thing is… complicated, but I'll do my best to make sure you won't regret it."

"Even if we get caught there will be no regrets. Really it's not complicated at all; you're our friend, you've asked us for help, and that means the answer's pretty obvious. Whatever happens, whether it works or blows up in our faces, we've got your back."


	3. Canto III

Though it had been many busy days, eventually Adora found a late evening to return. The cell wasn't difficult to find, being among few of its kind down here. She could not help but note that the Brightmoon dungeon was absolutely dwarfed by the one maintained in the depths of the Horde fortress; a massive complex with floor after floor of cramped, claustrophobic cells. Perhaps that was telling, something indicative of a more intolerant and punitive nature.

Once again, Adora was faced with two guards, and once again she dismissed them, though this time she was ready when the first inquired.

"Again? What is your business down here, Lady Adora?"

"Official business. I've been assigned to… to question the prisoner."

"By who?"

Adora froze. Now that was a question she hadn't counted on. Her first instinct had been to cite Queen Angela, but dismissed that when she remembered that Her Majesty was not part of the deception, but Adora knew who was.

"C-Commander Glimmer, sir."

"Oh!" the knight said, stiffening in attention. "Then by all means…"

As he made his exit, Catra eyed Adora warily.

"So," she said, "not here on anyone's orders, huh?"

"Nope. You're not the one I lied to, he was."

"I see… still, didn't expect to see you again, Princess. Is this going to be a regular thing now?"

"Why?" Adora chuckled, "Are you busy?"

"Yeah, trying to find a way out."

"In that case I don't think I should be leaving you alone."

Catra growled in reply, "I suppose I walked into that one. So what's it going to be this time, Adora? What pathetic little plea are you going to try?"

"More of an invitation, really."

"What, to join you here in this candy-coated sorry excuse for a fortress? Pretty dangerous game there, last time I was invited to a castle I rigged it to explode. What's to stop me from doing that again? What's to stop me from torching this whole place and dancing on its ashes?"

"Well, me. I'd stop you."

"You mean you'd try. You would try and I would… I would make you sorry."

"Why the pause there?"

"Huh?"

"You paused. Were you going to say something else?"

"No," shouted Catra angrily, "I said what I meant! I'm not some Rebellion weakling who beats around the bush! I am a Horde Commander, which begs the question as to what this place could possibly have to offer someone like me? If I defect all I'd get here is a sentence and a cell."

"Do you really think for a moment I'd let that happen?"

"So what, you're the bloody Queen now? What happened to the purple fairy lady?"

"Well, no, I'm… I'm not actually in charge."

"Then your word means less than dirt, just as I thought. Really, if it weren't for that oversized butterknife you carry around, you'd be a criminal same as me."

"No, because here vengeance isn't a virtue, and power isn't the only thing that matters."

"You sure about that? You act like this place is so different, but other than a paint job I'm seeing quite a few similarities. Think about it, when you were a rank-and-file Horde grunt I bet they were ready to put you away, maybe in this very same cell for all we know. Then you pick up a shiny toy and BOOM! Behold and rejoice, for the foretold warrior-saviour is born! Cue everyone bowing their heads before the new almighty Princess. Seems to me they have _plenty_ of respect for power, maybe it's just that the Horde is more honest about it."

"Catra, these are good people, if you would just see how kind they can be-"

"Yeah, I'm feeling so very loved in this dungeon right now. This must be the famous Brightmoon hospitality."

"Look, if they're actually mistreating you-"

"If they did, they'd be dead."

"Yeah," Adora said, forcing a weak laugh, "because if they did I would have been the one-"

"Oh spare me your pity. I want nothing of it, I will not be pitied."

"No one is pitying you."

"**LIAR!"**

Catra leapt from the shadows towards Adora as close as her prison would allow, grabbing ahold of the bars of the cell, her now-bared claws resounding with a clang against the steel. Every word was suffused with rage, each syllable hissed with utter loathing;

"You have done nothing but pity me, from day one! I'm finally somebody but you're still looking down on me! _Damn you_, damn you for coming down here and trying to fix a lost cause!"

"If I thought you were a lost cause I wouldn't be here."

"Not me, you imbecile, the lost cause is trying to fix what you've done. How many times do I have to tell you? It's over, there is no going back, no forgiveness, no stupid happily-ever-after ending! So give up, just give up like everybody else!"

"Never. I will never give up on you, nor will I give up on us. I won't be like everyone else!"

"You _are_ like everybody else! You're just like all the other lying, scheming, cheating, backstabbing lowlifes we grew up with, who now I have to keep in line."

"Then leave them! Then leave them behind!"

"Of course you'd suggest that. After all, that was your huge breakthrough, wasn't it? Just ditch anyone who ties you down, abandon everything and everyone as soon as it's convenient!"

"If that's true then why am I here? If I abandon everything then why am I still trying?"

"Because you just want the old me back, the old, co-dependent crybaby Catra. You are wasting your time!"

"Why won't you just let me save you?!"

"You're not trying to save me, you never have been. You just need a victim, a damsel-in-distress so you can swoop in and save the day. Well guess what? I'm done, I am through helping weave whatever sad little narrative you've spun for yourself. You want to go be a hero? Do it on your own time and count me out. Now, I think I'm done chatting with the enemy, so how about you crawl back to your sycophantic little fan club? Tell them how mean ol' Catra hurt your precious feelings, I'm sure they'll be willing to feed you some garbage about how it's not your fault."

Adora was never one to cry easily. Even the very depths of sadness rarely provoked anything beyond a sullen face, and yet even for her it took all the effort in the world to not burst into tears as she left.


	4. Canto IV

"SHE WHAT?!"

Glimmer's shout echoed throughout the room, her volume no doubt extending into the halls beyond the door as well;

"I am going to… good gods, has she lost her mind? I'm going to find her, I'm gonna find her and then slap some sense into her!"

Bow did his best to calm his friend down.

"Come on, this is Adora, we're her friends, don't you want to see her happy?"

"Obviously."

"Then as friends our job is to support her. If what makes her happy is a crazy cat-lady from the Fright Zone then shouldn't we stand by her?"

"Yeah, I want to see her happy same as you do, of course I do, but if a friend is making a harmful decision then you're supposed to stop 'em, right? I'm not gonna just sit back and say, 'well if she wants to walk off a sheer cliff, whatever makes her happy I guess.'"

"I don't see how this is the same as life-threatening injury."

"It's a metaphor and you know it. I mean c'mon, someone who loves you doesn't freakin' attack you the way Catra does."

"Look, even my dads fight sometimes-"

"No, that's different! I don't mean to be rude or condescending, but I think you're letting your 'hopeless romantic' side get in the way of your thinking."

"Boy, that sounds familiar. Didn't you accuse me of similar things when I made friendly with Adora way back when? Told me not to chat it up with a Horde soldier?"

"Sure, we gave her a chance, but she took it!"

"So, why not do it again and give Catra a chance? If Adora's willing to forgive her, maybe you should too."

"Let me put it this way, if someone sliced you up or sent a tank battalion at you, I'd hunt them to the ends of the earth."

"And I say without any sarcasm that I appreciate it."

"Then how can you give the benefit of the doubt to someone who's done exactly that to our friend?"

"Because Adora does, and I'm willing to trust her. We've seen the good in Adora despite her upbringing and I'm willing to at least look for that in Catra. I mean, shouldn't we try to see the good in everyone?"

"Ugh, how? How are you supposed see the good in everyone?"

"Well what's the alternative, to see just the bad? Nah, I don't think anything gets done that way. Revenge is the Horde way, and we're better than that."

"Oh Bow, you're adorable, but you're forgetting that this is war. We can't afford that kind of idealism, they sure as hell don't!"

"If that were the case how would we be any different from them? We're supposed to be the good guys but if we were to end up doing things the same way they do, that's not exactly the kind of world I'm fighting for, and I know that's not what you're fighting for either."

She sighed, and all spitfire seemed to drain from her as she exhaled.

"Maybe you're right, I just… I'm just worried about Adora is all. I'm worried she's making a really dumb mistake."

"Well, my dad Lance says that you can't always stop your friends from falling, but you can always be there to help 'em back up."

As if on cue, Adora opened the doors to her chambers, barely registering the presence of her friends before slumping onto the side of her bed in a resigned exhaustion.

"So…" Bow asked, somewhat dreading the answer, "How did it-"

Glimmer interrupted him, "Take a look, Bow, how do you think it went?"

The princess walked towards Adora, sitting beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Adora?" she said, the tone of her voice immediately lowered to a tender empathy.

It was several minutes before Adora spoke, and when she did it was in a voice bereft of hope, and spoken with the occasional sniffle of tears held back.

"I guess by now Bow's filled you in?"

"Yeah, he has. So what happened? I don't… I don't suppose you made any kind of progress?"

Though Glimmer tried desperately to hope, praying really, that something had gone right, she knew the answer.

"No," Adora responded, "no, I don't think so. Not at all… it's like… it's like she's a cornered animal. You try to get close and she bites."

"Yeah," said Bow with a sigh, "I can imagine."

He massaged the back of his forearm, remembering well the wounds inflicted by the Commander's teeth and claws the last (far less successful) attempt at capturing her. Once finished with his reminiscing he joined the other two, taking a place at the other side of Adora.

"I think… I think what you said is on the right track. I think she really is like a cornered animal. When I was a kid, my dads adopted a grimalkin."

Adora raised a curious eyebrow, "A what now?"

"Little green cat with yellow stripes. Anyway, he was a rescue that had been mistreated by the previous owner. He was so frightened and timid that we ended up called him Cringer, but when he wasn't shaking in fear he was the meanest thing you can imagine, always growling and lashing out. He bit and scratched everyone in the house more than once."

"Wait," said Glimmer, "_Cringer_ bit you? Sweet, loyal Cringer?!"

Bow nodded, "Oh yeah, before you met him? All the time. That's kind of my point. He was finally in good hands but he didn't know it yet, and so he fought back because it was the only way he knew how to respond."

Adora was only confused.

"Then why did you bother? That sounds like a total hassle."

"Simple, we did it because Cringer needed love, we did it because nothing and no one deserves that kind of abuse. We wanted him to live a good life, to know there was another way. It was tough, way tougher than just raising one from a kitten, but it was worth every second. That, I think, is how we should look at this situation with Catra. She's lashing out because it's been her survival mechanism her whole life, the only way she's been able to sort-of endure being a member of the Horde. However, just like with Cringer, I think over time, with love and some serious patience, we can show Catra there's a better way too, show her that she is, for the first time in her life, safe, that she's finally among people who aren't going to mistreat her."

"How?" asked Adora, "How do I show her that?"

"Like I said, love and patience. It may take a while, it's not going to be overnight, but few things are. It's like the old saying, 'Brightmoon wasn't built in a day.' It's going to suck, it's going to hurt for both of you…"

Glimmer nodded her head, "But Bow and I will be with you every step of the way."


	5. Canto V

_Orþos languished deep in the gaols of the fell keep Angal__ô__r, ever insisting his goodly intentions yet never yielding to the grasp of fear. His words fell upon deaf ears, heard and dismissed by the dread master of that stygian realm; Than-Gôr, known to tremulous foes as Deathdealer, well did he earn his fearful name. He appeared before Orþos seeking truth, unaware the prince had already given it._

_At the dawn of the first day, the Shadow-King commanded._

"_Tell me your aims among the dolmens, son of Phænor, or I shall take from you your lyre, your chiefest treasure."_

"_I tell you the truth mighty lord. You mistake my wealth, for it is not my golden harp I cherish but my songs, and those you cannot seize for they lay in my heart."_

_At noon on the second day, the Shadow-King commanded again._

"_What brought you so close to my borders, Hound of Culann? Speak, no doubt your wife weeps for your return."_

"_A second time I tell you the truth, great __son of M__ô__rok. You mistake my heart, for love I have yet to find."_

_Late on the third day, the Shadow-King commanded once more._

"_You who seeks war, what hope of victory did you have against me? Reveal your secrets, surrender your designs. You may be seventh son of a seventh son, but no magic will save you."_

"_A third time I tell you the truth, benevolent Shade-Tyrant. You mistake my nature, for I do not possess any gift of dweomer-craft."_

_Three times had Orþos been questioned, three times had he told the truth, yet it availed him not. Than-Gôr was too wary and too suspicious to trust a Brighfolk, no matter their honour. Weary of such resistance, the Dark Lord sent tidings to Brightmoon, hoping to secure ransom for the Prince's return, but King Phænor, being craven and absent the courage of his forefathers, refused to pay weregild, fearing any wealth sent would go to the forging of weapons to be turned against him. In his cowardice he was willing to sacrifice his own flesh-and-blood. Greatly was the Dark Lord struck by this reply, for what man abandons his own child?_

* * *

It was many days before Adora could muster the nerve to return. She felt like she'd been delivered a straight-punch to the gut last time, and did not welcome the possibility of another. However, after her prior visit, something had occurred to her, something Catra said, or more accurately, something she hadn't. Adora could not let the issue lie, and so she braved another meeting. It did not bode well that the first thing she was greeted by was a groan of utter annoyance.

"Ugh, as if this cage wasn't bad enough. How many times are you going to pester me?"

"As many as it takes, a hundred times if I have to."

"I have to put up with this ninety-seven more times? Well… then again," she said with a confident smirk, "maybe not. If I don't find a way out I'm sure the Horde will send someone after me. Just you wait."

"Catra… it's been weeks and there hasn't been so much as a single scout." said Adora with genuine remorse.

"You don't… you _can't_ know that."

"If there were, I would tell you. No one from the Horde has come for you."

"You have to be lying, the Horde… the Horde looks after its own."

"Since when? Since when has that ever been in their playbook? Have you ever been told to gather a search party, ever been charged with rescuing others? When have they ever had you do so much as search for the wounded, or gather the dead to give them proper burials?"

"What would be the point?"

"Taking care of your own."

Catra snorted in abject disgust, "Why do you insist on coming down here and bothering me, again and again?"

"I told you already, I'm looking for the Catra I remember, because that's the real Catra. That's _my_ Catra."

"I don't belong to you, I don't belong to anyone!"

"That's funny, I thought you were _second_ in command."

"I swear," the Force-Captain growled, "if it wasn't for these prison bars I'd-"

"What? Go on."

"I'd… I'd make you sorry!"

"Ha! You still can't say it!"

"What?"

"That you'd kill me. You can't bring yourself to that word, can you? I didn't realize it until after the fact, but that's the word you stumbled on last time."

"No! I mean it, you know I do, I would and I will!"

"Then say it. Say that you'd _kill_ me."

They stood there in silence for a great length of time. Adora strained to meet Catra's gaze, the sheer intensity of the eye contact difficult to endure, but she wouldn't give her the satisfaction. She would not be the one to blink first, even as the air practically simmered in tension. All the world was silent for an eternal instant, only finally broken by a snarl from Catra.

"What's it matter? They all mean the same thing. It proves nothing for whatever wild theory you're spinning in that head of yours."

"Doesn't it? I think it speaks volumes. Despite all the hate they've tried to fill your head with, the old you is still in there… somewhere."

"Don't make me laugh, not even She-Ra can bring Old Catra back."

"I know."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Because I'm hoping Adora can."

"Hmph," she grunted with defiance, "you think you can do anything don't you? You think if you're stubborn or persistent enough, everything's going to go your way. Well, I've got bad news for you, Princess Backstabber; you're trying to break a brick wall with your forehead. That's how pointless this is, all you'll get is a concussion."

"Then I won't use my head… I'll use my heart."

"The heart? The only thing that squirming little muscle is good for is a strategic weakness to be exploited by those of us who know better than to succumb to it."

"Now that definitely sounds like Hordak talking."

"It is, but he's right."

"As long as you think that, you're his prisoner far, far more than ours. You boasted about being able to see through the manipulation and lies, but you're still acting like someone who's fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You're still buying every toxic thing they're selling."

"Is it toxic if it's the truth? Is it poison if it lets me see reality for all its callous cruelty?"

"If it's truth you're looking for, here it is; as soon as Hordak doesn't need you anymore he'll crush you. He'll swat you like an insect and move on to new pawns just like he did with Shadoweaver before you. He wants you as nothing more than a tool, I just want you as a friend."

"Oh give it up. If I have to hear one more gods-forsaken line about how love, hope and friendship win in the end, I am going to vomit. You think that kind of pathetic fairy tale nonsense holds any resemblance to the real world, where nothing good lasts, and even that fleeting happiness always comes with conditions?"

"Now where did you hear that pile of crap?"

"I LEARNED IT FROM YOU!" Catra roared, "You're the one who taught me that no one looks out for you, and that only morons trust others! You're the one who taught me that nothing and no one can be depended on to take care of you! You think Adora can bring Old Catra back? Old Catra is dead! She's been dead for a year now, and you're the one that killed her. When I take you out, it won't be on Hordak's orders, it will be the just sentence for a _murderer_. Now get out my sight."


	6. Canto VI

As soon as the static faded from the screen, Bow was greeted by the familiar sight of his father Lance. Now that he was no longer hiding his involvement with the Rebellion, his contact with his folks had become far more frequent. To that end he had rigged for them a second receiver linked to his tracker pad. Lance, bright and shining as ever, responded with his trademark mirth (a demeanour he'd happily passed to Bow.)

"So, how's our little hawkeye?" he said with a bright, white smile.

Bow just rolled his eyes at his new nickname.

"Hey, there, how you guys doing, and where's George?"

"Just running an errand, getting ready for the festival in Thaymor."

"Wow," said Bow in surprise, "I'd forgotten all about that."

It was now Lance's turn to roll his eyes, "Oh dear Bow, your George-side is showing. I suppose that means you still haven't said a thing to Glimmer?" he said with a cheeky grin.

"DAD!"

His father refused to apologize, only responding with laughter.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, Adora needs some advice with something. I've been trying my best, but I'm running out of ideas, and was wondering if you could help her out."

"But of course, any friend of yours is a friend of ours, you know that. What is it?"

"You mean besides complicated?"

"Uh oh, that sounds like code for romantic troubles."

"Yeah, and only compounded by the fact that I don't think Adora's aware that what she's feeling is romantic."

"So, play it cool on that front at first?"

"If you can."

"Very funny, son. But yes, absolutely I can help."

"Like I said, it's pretty hairy, and frankly I'm thinking it's best if she gives you the details herself."

"Heh, everyone thinks that. Everyone thinks their issues are uniquely difficult when it comes to love, but we've all got a tendency to over-complicate these kinds of things. I doubt it's as bad as you're implying."

* * *

Several long minutes later, a somewhat shell-shocked George and Lance could only stare at Adora with eyes wide. For a moment both were speechless before Lance spoke first.

"Okay… I stand corrected. That is a rather complex situation."

"But…" Adora asked, "not hopeless, right?"

"Certainly not," he continued, "there's always hope. Just be aware, this will be an uphill battle, dare I say downright sisyphean."

George was next, "Here's the way I'm seeing it; from the sound of it, a lot of times you've approached her it's been about the past, about recapturing something that was lost. In a way Catra's right about one thing; that ship really has sailed, that relationship and dynamic of yours is finished."

"But that's what I want!"

"No," continued George, "if that's really what you wanted, you would've just stayed with the Horde. No, what you need to be doing is try to make something new."

"How do I do that when the past is all we have?"

"Ah," said Lance, "but that's where you're mistaken, dear. You've got something even more important; the future."

"You think so? What about all the memories we have together? Do they mean nothing?"

"Hardly." responded George, "The future can be built on the past as a foundation, that's how time works after all, but this has to be about moving forward. You both have grown, you both have changed."

"I don't know, I feel like she's stuck… or maybe I am."

"Well, you don't always grow upwards, what I'm talking about is simply change. It's kind of like a plant, sometimes it grows sideways and spreads out, sometimes it will grow taller, sometimes it grows thorns and brambles. Either way, it grows and so do you. Whatever you want to have with Catra will have to take that growth, that change, into account."

"So what am I doing wrong?" she asked, "What can I do to make her see the light the way I did?"

"You can't," said George matter-of-factually, "at the end of the day it has to be her choice, and it won't be an easy one. There's never any self-awareness that doesn't come with a little bit of hurt. A lot of people will do just about anything to avoid facing that, but the only such things come to light is from confronting the darkness within."

"It feels like there's a whole lot of darkness there." said Adora.

"Well, this may not be what you want to hear, Adora, but there's darkness in you too. You both grew up under those conditions, you both have some demons to wrestle with, you've both got some soul-searching to do. Take heart though, because as flowery as this will sound, the soul often knows what it needs to heal, you just need to listen."

Lance chimed in, "If you're looking for a way to break this particular stalemate, might I suggest that if she's too stubborn to admit her mistakes, then do the diplomatic thing and at least admit yours. Address the past so you can leave it behind and build tomorrow, whatever that means to you."

"So what did I do wrong?" she said concernedly.

"Can't say for sure," answered George, "that's going to be a hard lesson you discover for yourself, but such learning will be valuable no matter the outcome. That said, we have faith in you, and I do really believe you can figure this all out."

Lance nodded in agreement, "And never forget, you won't be alone. You've got Bow, you've got Glimmer, and you've got me and George."

Adora tried to smile, but found it difficult given her straits.

"I just hope that will be enough to break those years of fear and anger."

"Well," said Lance, "no bones about it, her heart's been hurt and bruised by some truly cruel people and a pretty harsh upbringing, but you came from the same background and came out alright in the end. I mean, anyone who's been injured like that and keeps their ability to be gentle and compassionate? Well, they deserve a love deep as the sea, and you absolutely do, Adora."

"To that end," George said, "don't just tell Catra how much you care or how much better it is away from all the people who hurt her, you've got to show her somehow."

"And you think that will work?" asked Adora.

George just shrugged his shoulders, "Can't say. At the end of the day, the cold, hard truth is that you aren't the one who can save her, she needs to do that herself. Nothing and no one is going to _make_ you happy, it's a choice, and she needs to _choose_ that."

"You can help her along, sure," added Lance, "but he's right, the decision will be hers, and hers alone."

"I just want to…" said Adora, pausing momentarily, "I want her to choose that, to choose me, and choose us."

"I know," said Lance, "and we hope she does, and so do all of us who care about you."

George agreed, "We'll keep you in our thoughts, Adora. Good luck."

With that, George reached for the dial on the device and clicked it off. Somewhat wistful, he turned around in the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

"You know, you'd think after raising thirteen kids we would have gotten used to it by now, but gods, do they ever grow up fast."


	7. Canto VII

Despite the hour Catra had yet to fall asleep. Instead she found herself gazing out the small window of her cell at a sight never witnessed before. As soon as the sun set it had been replaced with what looked to be a hundred-thousand white gems scattered across the night. Her subconscious tried to sway her from what stirred within, decrying such feelings as effete and soft-hearted, but here away from home she found herself free. In the sanctity of her own mind she needed no excuse to let this… _beauty_ wash over her. She didn't know what the lights were, all she knew was that she had fallen in love with the skies of Brightmoon, though she would take that secret to her grave.

"Pretty, aren't they?"

It was all Catra could do to not leap six feet into the air. She'd never heard Adora come in, had her nemesis gotten better at stealth or had Catra really been that absorbed in her thoughts? She cleared her throat and composed herself, doing her best to return to a demeanour better fitting an officer, absent the childish wonder she'd so recklessly displayed.

"I was just curious. That's all. I was… unfamiliar with the layout of the sky. I haven't seen anything quite like it."

"Neither had I before I got here."

"So, what is it? It's like someone threw a bunch of tiny lamps up there."

"They're called stars. They show up here every night but I'm still not tired of them, even though everyone else takes them for granted."

"Where do they come from? Is this some sort of Brightmoon magic?"

"Nope, apparently they've always been there. That's just what the sky naturally looks like."

"If that's the case then why didn't we ever see it in the Zone?"

"Air's too thick, all the smog and pollution means we never had a chance to."

"I never realized what I was missing. I mean, sure, sometimes we'd see the Moon but… but it looks like there's three moons right now, and none of them are ours."

"Right? Turns out what we called 'The Moon' is just one of many. They've all got names, ours is the Eye of Baal, and it's said to be an omen of war."

"So what about the ones out right now?"

"Let's see if I can remember… that pink one is Laverna, and it's supposed to be lucky, especially if you're looking for mischief."

"What about the other two? The silver one and the sort of grey-blue one next to it?"

"Not actually sure." Adora confessed. "Glimmer's aunt tried tell us in Mystacor but I got bored pretty quickly. In my defense, there's about a dozen of them, and it's not like the knowledge ever comes up. Anyway, all I remember is that those two are special somehow. I don't actually know, I'd have to ask. Want me to find out for you?"

Catra smiled mischievously.

"_Really?_ You sure that wouldn't be aiding the enemy? You think your new friends would approve of you divulging that intel? Are you looking to maybe get yourself in good Horde graces again, or just mine?"

Adora was unsure what it was about Catra's face now, maybe it was the way the various lunar lights dancing across her face, or her coy and confident bearing, enhanced by the rose light of Laverna, but Adora felt a faint warmth underneath her cheeks, uncertain where it came from but hoping to any gods who'd listen that Catra didn't see it, or Adora would never hear the end of it.

"Y-yeah, I mean, it's not like you can do anything with it. It's pretty harmless."

"Still, it makes me wonder what else I can tease out of you… what more you might give me."

"I'm sorry, who's the prisoner here?"

She laughed, a dark yet playful chuckle that whispered of predatory intent, one evoked further as she continued.

"It's like I said, you're the worst interrogator ever, and so easily… distracted. Do you ever wonder what may be happening outside while you're down here with me? Did it ever occur to you that you're not the one in control?"

Adora gulped, feeling backed into a corner like a threatened animal. Had she gotten in over her head, had Catra been playing her this whole time? Her paranoia rose inversely to falling hopes that she had any power in this situation, had this whole capture been a ruse? Was this part of a scheme that Adora had fallen for, one only now revealed as cracks in the resolve of She-Ra became apparent? The cogs of her mind whirred in panicked speculation. She began to feel helpless until she noticed an old sound, one she'd not heard in a great deal of time, and she was amazed she hadn't caught it earlier. Her confidence and composure returned, Adora decided to turn the tables of the conversation.

"Nice try, Catra. I can hear you purr. Maybe your words can lie, but that little trill of yours never does. Consider your bluff called."

Yes, Catra was purring. She hadn't trying to manipulate her, she was teasing her. This was no tactic, it was a game of the sort they'd always play on each other as children. A kind of loving banter they'd disguise as animosity to deceive their superiors, lest they be deemed too close and separated into different units. Such severing of their connection had once been what Adora feared more than anything, now that it had come to pass it was her greatest regret.

For her part, Catra was clearly caught off guard, and clapped a hand over her mouth as though she'd accidentally given voice to some horrid swear.

"Sh-shut up." she stammered, "It's involuntary, it doesn't mean anything."

"Whatever you say." Adora said with a smirk.

* * *

If anyone were to know of such things as magical moons, Adora felt that Glimmer would be the one to turn to. After a brief search she found the Princess of Brightmoon in her room, perched up on a ladder and hanging long strands of shrubbery woven with blooms of hawthorn, joining many other verdant decorations arrayed across the space of her chambers.

"Hey Glimmer, what are you up to? What are all the decorations for?"

"You don't know?"

"Afraid not. I mean, you're talking to someone who had to have the concept of a party explained to her, remember?"

"Fair enough. Well, it's the Festival of Twinmoon. It used to be a harvest faire sort of thing, celebrating the end of the growing season and all that."

"Used to be? So what is it now then?"

"Well, it's kind of evolved into a romantic holiday."

"I see, so why today? What makes this date in particular so special?"

"Uh, because of the moons? You know, Orthos and Ucrae? The Lovers' Moons that only appear together, waxing and waning in sync?"

"Uh… _oar-thoes_, _ook-ray?_"

"Really? That's surprising. I mean, the story involves the Fright Zone, or at least, what would eventually become it. Are you sure?"

"Sorry, those names don't mean anything to me."

"Huh… Well, it's the story of a prince and princess from opposite sides of a war who fall in love. The prince was from Brightmoon and the princess was from Shadowsun, which eventually became the Fright Zone."

"I see, so it's the story you celebrate?"

"Well, yeah, but more specifically you're supposed to take time to appreciate the person closest to you."

"You have an entire day just for that?"

"What do you mean 'just' that?"

"Just seems like a lot of fuss for such a short story."

Glimmer just rolled her eyes.

"_Obviously_ the original one is a little more detailed, silly. In fact, if you're interested…"

With a flash of light, the Princess teleported from her perch to a shelf on the other end of the room. From it she pulled a weighty tome covered in a great volume of dust that served as proof that it had not been touched in many years. Bound in the leather of a white auroch, upon its cover was the text;

**The Romance of**

**Orþos & Ucræ**

Adora could not help but puzzle at the strange letters on the cover.

"What the… what are these symbols? The one that's a lowercase _p_ with a… stem? Then again, maybe it's a _b_ with a tail."

Glimmer softly giggled, "Old speech. There used to be a few more letters in the alphabet. The long p is called _thorn_, and it's a "th" sound, like "thimble" or "thought."

"What about the one that's an _a_ and _e_ smooshed together?"

"Don't remember what it's called off the top of my head, but you say it like _-ay_ in play or the _a_ in acorn."

"Weird… How is it that there is so much I wasn't told about the world?"

"I don't know, but it sure seems the Horde kept a lot from you, either that or it just got lost to time. From what you've told me they're not exactly the sort who would keep books or tell bedtime stories."

"Very much so."

"That's a shame, I loved these stories as a kid." she said downcast, but only for a moment, as soon she returned to a more cheerful demeanour. "That's why I am more than happy to lend this, so you can enjoy them too."

Once she had found a comfortable spot, Adora tenderly opened the well-loved book, finding the pages made of whiteglass and the text written in a longhand script inked in quicksilver. Beholding this illuminated manuscript she saw the truth of a point she had once heard made by Queen Angela; that while there was nothing wrong with technological implements like data slates, there really were some things that could not be imitated by a screen.

She began to read and found herself drawn into the visions of a bygone world, a fabled time she never knew existed and a part of her grew to greatly mourn its passing. Yet again she realized how much the folk of Brightmoon took so many aspects of their lives for granted. Adora hung on every word until she saw the sky grow dark. As much as it pained her to stop, she felt it would not do to remain awake any longer. Crawling into bed, she drifted to sleep, and when she dreamt, it was of that age of myth and fable long gone from the world, and one she could not wait to return to the following day.

* * *

_Before I receive a dozen corrections, I only became aware of Etheria's lack of stars **after** writing this portion. Even so, at this point I had woven too much mythos into the presence of the stars to scratch the whole thing, thus I decided to keep the chapters intact._


	8. Canto VIII

Bow couldn't help but gulp nervously a little. While he'd never give him the satisfaction, Lance had been right; he'd not asked Glimmer to the Festival. It wasn't necessarily required to have a partner for it, but the spirit of the season was courage and love, or perhaps the courage _to_ love might be more accurate. Unlike Adora he needed no explanations regarding this holiday, having grown up with the story courtesy of Lance who could (and would) recite vast sections of the Sagas from memory.

He shook his head in an effort to clear his mind and focus, staring at the door to her room that, though he'd opened a thousand times, yet now seemed an intimidating peak to climb. How circumstances could so easily warp the familiar.

"_Get it together, Bow!"_ he chided himself internally, _"This isn't some stranger, this is Glimmer, so grow a spine already."_

How was it that he could face down killer-robots, evil magic, and ancient beasts, yet asking someone he knew so well a simple question the most terrifying moment in recent memory? Yes, some of his need and nerves had to do with the upcoming festival of course, but there was the awareness of how hurt she'd felt during the Princess Ball last year, but more than anything he hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake. His siblings and fathers had pushed him towards this, encouraging (pestering, really) him to take the leap, but doubts remained. Summoning blind courage, he opened the door and saw Glimmer sizing up decorations, trying to eyeball whether or not they were arranged and aligned to her liking.

"Hey there, Bow. Mind lending me your eyes here? Not sure if I've got this a hundred-percent straight."

"Well, looks good from where I'm standing."

She smiled, proudly taking stock of her efforts to make her room appropriately festive.

"Ah… perfection. Now, to what do I owe the visit? I figured you'd be out helping your dads get ready or something like that."

"I've got thirteen siblings, and most of them came, they've got more than enough hands on deck. As for my visit, well… with the holiday getting closer every day, and since you'll be attending…"

"Well yeah, I go every year."

"Exactly, so I was just, maybe wondering if you'd come with me?"

"You go every year too. How would this be any different than normal?"

"True, but we've never been able to dance together."

"Obviously, that event's kinda reserved for…" while she blushed, she lost no composure, only letting a sly smile show itself, "reserved for couples. Are you asking what I think you are?"

"I am." Bow said as confidently as he could.

"Well Gods, what took you so long?"

"I don't know, maybe I was terrified!"

"Of me?"

"No, just worried you'd say no, or that asking would make things awkward between us."

"We're already together constantly and you know pretty much all there is to know about me, I don't think much will change anyway. I mean, I'd practically been operating as if we already had been for a while now, if there was a such a thing as being a 'common law boyfriend and girlfriend' I think we'd be pretty guilty of it."

"Gotta say, this is going pretty well. Guess that means all I'm doing is asking to make it official."

"If that's the question then the answer is yes. Honestly I'd been trying to find a good time to ask you myself, but looks like you beat me to it."

He smiled, "Great minds and all that."

Glimmer just playfully rolled her eyes at the transparent flattery, "Well, if that's all you needed, then there's just one thing left to do."

The boy only raised a curious eyebrow, "And that is?"

Without answering he felt her lips on his in a quick smooch. The sudden heat of his blush threatened to set his cheeks on fire, prompting a giggle from the Princess along with an impish grin. She ruffled his hair and sweetly dismissed him.

"Run along Orthos, but don't go too far. There are some visiting dignitaries I have to pretend to care about but after that, I think we've got some dancing to practice, and maybe some other things." she punctuated with a wink.

Bow walked out in a strange combination of a goofy daze and a proud stride, and he was so consumed with that sense of accomplishment he didn't notice who was in his way until he'd already ran into them.

"Oh! Sorry Swiftwind!"

"Hello! So, I need to know, who asked who?"

"Huh?" questioned the young archer.

"Did _she_ ask you or did _you_ ask her?"

"What?!" he almost shouted, "Were you watching?!"

"Nah, just eavesdropping."

"That's not better, Swift. Really, that was pretty rude."

"So is this just a human thing I don't understand?"

"Yes," said Bow, "yet another one."

He couldn't help thinking that both Adora and her mighty steed were two oblivious peas in a pod, hilariously meant for each other.

"Anyway," said the sentient equine, "You never answered my question."

"Now why do you think that detail is any of your business?"

"Oh come on, I'm not gonna shout it in the town square. I just need to know for… reasons."

"Fine, so long as you promise not to tell anyone. You blab and it will totally kill the surprise."

"Cross my dart and hope to fly."

"That's not… nevermind. I asked her. Happy now?"

"HA!" Swiftwind shouted, "The Queen's going to love this!" before immediately clapping his hooves over his mouth. "Errr… guess I should get out of here now."

"Oh no you don't, you get back here!"

Bow's protest came too late, as Swiftwind had already gone airborne. All the lad could do was try to keep up, something he was already struggling with.

* * *

Queen Angella and Archmage Castaspella walked with a leisurely pace through the statuary gardens to the west of the castle grounds. Taking a break from droll matters of state and unpleasant details of the ongoing conflict, they indulged in the rare opportunity to speak of lighter matters.

"So," began the Queen of Brightmoon, "how fares the Academy? Any promising new students?"

"For the most part I think it's a little early to say with any certainty, however I've noticed a boy named Balthasar Gelt. Tremendous raw talent in alchemy and transmutation, but not much discipline. I've had him start receiving additional instruction from Professor Trismegistus in hopes that-"

A flap of wings and a kicking up of dust interrupted them and announced the arrival of Swiftwind, who spoke quickly and frantically.

"Your Majesty, Your Eminence! It… has… HAPPENED!"

Angella's expression changed very little, "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Uh, you know, the thing you've been having surveil for the past few weeks as we get closer to Twinmoon?"

Castaspella lit up, "Oh, you mean _that_! Well, spit it out horsefeathers!"

Before the steed could relay the information, an exhausted Bow trudged into the inner circle, leaning on a marble bust.

"Don't… you… dare…" he wheezed.

Without missing a beat, Swiftwind ignored him. "Your Ladyships, it was Bow who asked Glimmer."

Queen Angella all but yelped in excitement, her wings bursting out as if to emphasize her triumph.

"Yes! I _knew_ it. Pay up."

The other woman only sighed and dropped a few coins in the others' hand.

"Wait," shouted Bow, you two bet on me and Glimmer going out?"

Her Majesty laughed, "Oh gods no, you and my daughter being together was easier to predict than the tide. Our little wager was over which of you would ask first. She put the money on Glimmer, I put it on you."

Castaspella nodded in agreement, "Every year we make the same bet right around Twinmoon, but every year has ended in a draw."

"Until now." said Angella proudly, "Seems I put my money on the right horse."

"Hey!" Swiftwind said in objection.

Bow simply sighed, "Great, my love life is a racing derby, and the bookies are Glimmer's whole family."

"Well," interjected Angella, "not just us."

He only glared at them, "No…"

"Afraid not, child. This year your fathers and your siblings joined in."

An exasperated Bow only placed his head in his palms. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. How is it everyone else saw this coming but me? Even _Glimmer_ wasn't all that surprised."

Castaspella just put a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Don't worry, everyone's an idiot when it comes to love. Just ask her." she said, pointing to her sister-in-law.

"Why you _little_…"


	9. Canto IX

_On the fourth day Ucræ, princess of Shadowsun, __descended the thousands steps to the great dungeons of Angalôr.__ No mere lady-in-waiting, rather mighty thane of the Than-Gôr's grand hosts. She sought to question Orþos, and being canny in many crafts, hoped to succeed where her lord and father had found only frustration. She expected to hear lament and despair from him, assuming a pampered prince ill-suited to surviving the hardship of her home. Yet no cries did she hear, instead a__s she approached she heard an alien music. She was not ignorant of song, for even Shadowfolk have their own, but this was unlike any she had heard before. The verses were foreign to her, as was the story they told._

_A void-ship sailed and anchored here,  
__by two swans pulled, and drawing near  
__the Auldings fair, among them king  
Ataremma, whose deeds we sing._

_He saw the bare and maiden earth,  
__so planted he great gems of worth.  
__Two great trees from them did arise,  
__growing tall to kiss the skies. _

_Telperion glowed silver light  
__and Laurelin shone golden bright.  
__They gave birth to the world's first spring,  
__and granted breath to all living._

_They lit the world before the Sun,  
__fore' waters of whale-roads did run.  
__Woodlands grew mighty, green, and tall,  
__in Elder Days before the Fall._

_She grew curious at these words and wished to know more, and her interrogations soon turned to genuine questions of interest._

"_Who are these Auldings you speak of," she said, "and what did they to merit such song?"_

"_You know not? My lady, the Auldings are responsible for our world, for all that is fair and lovely upon Eþeria."_

"_And I suppose you think your kin the only ones to receive such blessing? That only you are worthy of Heaven's grace?"_

"_No, they blessed and nurtured all, even those who do not praise them are loved in their sight."_

"_If they were so mighty they would not suffer to be ignored, so why have I not been struck down for never hearing of them?"_

"_The Auldings are strong, yes, but also merciful. They do not use their terrible strength to conquer, only to build."_

"_Then why waste time in praising them? If we are loved without consequence then what use is there in acknowledging them?"_

"_In doing so they lend us a portion of their strength, to love them is to feel tied like blood to Heaven, and there is not a stronger house."_

"_Yet your blood has abandoned you. When asked for ransom, your father King Phænor refused."_

"_Though my earthly father has abandoned me, Ataremma the Allfather has not. Though I can no longer claim the support of my lord, the Auldings never leave me, and so I praise them. In my devotion even in these pits I do not despair."_

_Never had Ucræ seen such resolve, would that her own warriors could show but a portion of such courage. Many nights did she puzzle at the strength and courage of the Brightfolk, whom she had always believed craven and spoilt._

* * *

Another day, another session with Catra. The aforementioned Commander simply laid back on her prison cot, as though occupying herself with counting the stones that formed the ceiling of her cell. Adora sat not far away, holding an improvised weapon the guards had confiscated. None of them could figure out how the prisoner had managed to put it together but Adora wasn't the least bit surprised. Both of them had received training in these things, and not just shivs, but lockpicks and garrote wires too. She found herself musing over Catra's work while twirling the makeshift blade in her hands.

"You know," she said, "if I were your instructor I'd be impressed. There isn't half the discarded junk lying around here as the Zone but still you managed to find the materials. My only critique would be that the blade's a little dull."

Catra puffed up, taking a morbid pride in her grim handiwork as she explained her reasoning.

"True, but look at the oxidation. If I sharpened it, I might file away the corroded portions that make the risk of infection more likely. Plus, a jagged wound takes longer to heal than a clean cut, so even if my attempt at escape is unsuccessful, I've taken out a combatant or two for a while."

"Fair enough. I know how much damage you can do _without_ weapons, nevermind actually being armed, so I suppose it's a good thing we got it from you."

"Hmph, _We._ That word used to mean the two of us, but somehow that got unraveled in a matter of hours. How did they convince you to become a turncoat that quickly? What did they, what_ could_ they do that I hadn't over an entire lifetime together? We were Horde, a collection of many, but to me you were one of a kind; a face that stood out of the crowd. It would've been easy to not give a damn, to just let things happen to you, because newsflash: you weren't quite as popular as you thought. There were more than a few that wanted to maim or remove you entirely, but thanks to me there's a Saurian with a scar, a Humanoid with a limp, and a Vat-Grown soldier missing an eye."

Even had she not said a word aloud, the shock was writ large across Adora's features.

"I… I had no idea, just how many people had it out for me?"

"By my count, I dealt with about thirteen. I'm sure there were more, but eventually everyone learned their lesson and stayed clear." the Commander said with a ruthless smirk.

"Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

"Because like an idiot I cared about your feelings, I know how bleeding-heart you are, and I knew you'd probably never sleep again if you were always looking behind your back. I was okay with letting you live in a fantasy world where everyone liked you. Too bad it was a waste of time."

"Does that have anything to do with how you matched my time and score in the simulations, even though you barely attended?"

"Yep, my training was more… hands-on." she said, pondering her nails for a moment, clearly reminiscing in several grisly memories.

"Catra, I never wanted people hurt in my name!"

"Oh really? Where was that sympathy whenever Shadoweaver practiced her latest incantations on me? I left scars in my wake for you, what did you ever do for me?"

"Sindri."

"Huh?"

"Ever wonder why he was always lurking in your shadow?"

"He was a sorcerer, I figure that's pretty much their MO."

"Worse, he'd been kidnapping cadets and experimenting on them, and you were his next target."

"Why me?"

"There weren't any other cadets of your species. He'd studied Scorponok, Saurians, and several Vat-Grown of course… but not you."

"How did you find all this out?"

"I got sick of his stalking and followed him to his sanctum. He was doing these magical experiments not just for their own sake, but so he could replace Shadoweaver as second-in-command. I reported him to her, and she reported him to Hordak."

Catra said nothing at first, but any trace of gratitude was nowhere to be found. Adora received little but a death glare.

"Fine, so you got rid of one creep, but am I supposed to believe your explanation? After all, it worked out pretty well for you. I'd never connected the dots before but now that I recall, your reputation went through the roof right about the same time. You've got the gall to tell me you did it for any reason beyond your own career?"

"Why else would I have followed him? I didn't know he was a traitor, so how could I be looking for something I didn't know was there? I never expected to have to report him, and even today I sometimes lose sleep over it, knowing everything that they did to punish him, but I can silence it by knowing why I did it, and for who."

Catra snorted, "You know, I was almost impressed until you mentioned the guilt."

"You know that's who I am Catra, better than anyone."

"Ugh, how was someone soft as you always the favorite?"

"See, that's what I don't get. How can you both hate Shadoweaver's guts and be so desperate for her approval? She didn't care about anyone but herself, and deep down I think part of you knew that; knew that no matter what you did it would never be enough for her. You think I was the favorite, maybe you think she even loved me, but it's just not true. If she could ever be said to truly love anything, it would be power, and that's been true for a long time, because we weren't even the first ones she's exploited. Did you know she used to be a mage from Mystacor?"

"I didn't actually. I just assumed she'd always been on our side."

"Nope, turns out she threw in with the Horde after she got herself cast out for trying to use a child to help her with spells, deadly ones. She didn't care about that kid, and she never cared about us. We've always just been a means to whatever sick end she happens to be pursuing at the moment. Admittedly, I can't help but wonder if she gravitated towards me because I was more… trusting?"

"You mean gullible," she said with a claw on her chin in the classic 'thinker's pose,' "and I'll admit that would explain a lot. Which begs the question, how do you know you're not _still_ being conned? Can you be so sure you're not just a puppet dancing on different strings at the mercy of a different master?"

"Interesting choice of words there."

"Which ones?"

"Mercy of a master… tell me, when's the last time your master showed mercy? When has Hordak had anything in the way of hesitation when it comes to punishment or revenge? Or do need I remind you what happened to old Sindri after I turned him in?"

Even from the other side of the room Adora could see Catra's every hair rise on goosebumps.

"Yeah, I heard the rumours."

"And did _any_ of them sound out of character for Hordak?"

"Well no, but that's how life is, isn't it? Succeed or die, utility is the worth of life, you remember that."

"I remember, and I used to believe it too."

"Let me guess, you're going to try and tell me that it's not the case everywhere."

"I can't speak to the whole world, but I've yet to see anything like that in the Rebellion."

"Except just like home you've got a free pass. No matter where you go, you get _something_ in your favour. Meanwhile, I've had to claw and fight for every inch of ground I've ever been begrudgingly given."

"Yes, but whatever you gain comes with a leash, you're only allowed so much. Face it, you're way more of a puppet than I am now, can you even imagine what freedom is like? What would you even do if you could do whatever you wanted? Take Hordak out of the picture and… what?"

Catra had been trained extensively in so many different tactics of war, yet nothing prepared her for that ambush of a question. She felt outmaneuvered, and try as she might to hide it, Adora could see through her easily as polished glass.

"Think about that, won't you?"


	10. Canto X

Adora could not help but sigh as she returned to her chambers, but for once it was not in feelings of defeat. True there was a measure of exhaustion, but a glad one. She'd seen the tiniest chip in Catra's steely resolve, and she wondered if she could risk faith in a light unseen at the end of this night-black tunnel. Unwilling to go to bed just yet, Adora made her way to the windowsill with its view of that canopy of a thousand, thousand lights. Castaspella said that ancient Etherians believed each had a name and blessings they could grant, though they were miserly with such gifts. Those wise in their reading, so the tales went, could interpret their movements and enlist their aid. Adora looked up at the sky, wondering if there was any truth to those beliefs. She supposed that there was no harm in asking, if it was true, then she'd get a little help from above, if not then at least she gave it a try. No words were spoken, but the thoughts rang clear in her mind. Satisfied that she had given an attempt, she curled into her bed, draping the covers around her person and fading into sleep, lulled by a faint hope that Catra could return to her, and return to her bed, curled up and breathing softly. To Adora that day could not come soon enough.

* * *

When Catra woke she did so somewhere vastly different than where she'd laid her head. It was a long, rectangular hallway plated with severely corroded metal. Devices, switches, and other technology were woefully unkempt, some with live wires so frayed that sparks would shoot from them, and that was if they functioned at all. In a way it was chillingly familiar because while she had not seen this exact part of the Fright Zone she could easily guess it. The older Horde soldiers would speak of it sparingly, and always in hushed tones, calling it by the ominously blunt name "The Pit." It was reserved for those who committed the gravest crimes, like treason, conspiracy, or when Hordak was in a particularly foul mood. Once arrived, the doomed soul would be given over to the creative (non) mercies of the gleefully sadistic paingivers.

The Commander was not alone, for when she ceased the survey of her surroundings she felt the grip of two large, burly Vat-Grown soldiers, Heavy Lancer class from the look of them. They had her restrained by the arms and were dragging her down the hall. She didn't need any more than an instant to realize what was happening; She was being escorted to The Pit. Immediately she began to struggle, pulling and straining against the iron grip of her captors but nothing seemed to release or even weaken their grip. She saw herself getting closer and closer to an open room at the end of the hall, an orange light at the end of the tunnel, but as to what lay beyond it she refused to speculate on, lest any focus on escape be lost. Standing outside the door was Shadoweaver, watching without emotion as a frantic Catra drew ever closer. Once face to face she spoke in that sinister faux-matronly tone of hers.

"I always had a feeling this would be how it ended, despite my best efforts. You couldn't succeed as a cadet, what hope did you think you'd have as Commander? Farewell."

Catra's eyes welled up in panicked tears as she watched Shadoweaver levitate away. The Vat-Grown passed the doorway into the room at the center of which was a chair with restraints, standing over it with a hand on the backrest was Lord Hordak himself.

"Ex-Commander Catra, you know the penalty for failure, and likewise the penalty for being captured."

"I DIDN'T TELL THEM ANYTHING, I SWEAR!"

"It doesn't matter, your sentence has already been decided."

Tears continued to run down her face as she struggled against the soldiers, but they didn't so much as flinch, even as she bit their wrists and kicked their chests and legs. Once fastened and buckled into the cold metal seat, she saw Hordak up close, a wicked and cruel disgust plain on his face as he leaned over her.

"To tell the truth, I actually had a modicum hope for you. For a year you performed admirably. You delivered victory after victory and annexed more territory in a few months than past Commanders have in their entire career. Yet just like them it seems you could not go the full distance, you did not have the dedication to the Horde to secure our final victory, and worse, you were witless enough to become a prisoner-of-war. Did you somehow think you were beyond my reach? Foolish child, no one escapes my retribution. You have failed, you were _inadequate_ and thus _worthless_ to me."

Catra watched him flip a switch, one of many upon the wall. This one in particular activated the loudcaster, meaning that whatever happened in this room would be heard by every person in the Fright Zone.

"The only use you have left is as an example to the rest of the troops, to remind them of the consequences of failure. After that you will be disposed of."

Hordak grabbed his cape with a flourish and left the room. Out of the corner of Catra's left eye she saw a deformed Vat-Grown, his face covered in lesions and blemishes, with a back that was severely hunched walking with a crooked, bow-legged gait as he limped and stumbled to a table upon which was an array of tools. Catra had never seen any of them before, but they were all obviously instruments of ungodly pain. The paingiver reached out a leprous, decaying hand and picked up a device with a long thin handle that terminated in a sharp, tiny disk rotating at high speed. Even over the electric whine of the device, she heard the misshapen creature's phlegmy cackles as he grinned to reveal several missing teeth. His voice was a shrill sandpaper of manic excitement.

"They say Hell is worse than anything in this life and that no mortal can match it, but I'll do my best."

She watched as the spinning blade met eye level and approached her face…


	11. Canto XI

The sentry suddenly heard a scream that curdled his blood. It was a scream of the purest, most primal terror one could imagine. Rushing to the prisoner's cell he found the Horde Commander clutching her chest, eyes bloodshot and wide open. Her fur and body were soaked with cold sweat and her face was paler than a corpse. Between shallow, heaving breaths her words barely rose above a whisper.

"A… a nightmare… it was just… oh gods…"

She wanted to be sure, and quickly glanced at her surroundings, felt her face and touched her own arms, trying to verify that she was really here, and that this was not yet another facet of the horror she'd just experienced. The bed, the stones, the barred window with the stars, the befuddled face of her imbecilic jailer. Everything was here. When she had stopped shaking she composed herself long enough to glare at the night guard and speak in the most imperative tone she could.

"Adora."

The oaf seemed confused by this, scratching his head.

"Huh?"

"I said, _Adora_. Get her down here, now."

He huffed, clearly offended at the very thought.

"And who are you to be barking orders? You're the prisoner here not me, and I'll not bother Lady Adora just because-"

The guard never finished the sentence because before he could notice, much less react, Catra had sped to the bars of the cell and grabbed him by his tunic to slam the bridge of his nose against the metal, breaking it with an audible crunch. Blood began to run down his face as he yelped in pain and fell backward, clutching his snout while giving voice to swears aplenty. Catra could not help but notice how impotent Brightmoon curses felt compared to the utterly vile blasphemies she would hear in the Fright Zone. She hissed at him, her every word acid.

"Get her down here _**now**_ you limp, worthless, bumbling, useless worm!"

The man did not need to be told again.

* * *

One knock, then two, then many until it ceased to be a simple knock and turned instead into a noisome pounding. Adora slowly opened her eyes, irritated in the extreme by the racket that assaulted her ears and robbing her of some genuinely pleasant dreams. Reluctantly she threw off the covers and made way to the door. As soon as she opened it she saw the boyish face of one of the junior recruits to the Knights of Brightmoon. After a hearty yawn she addressed him.

"This had better be impor- _woah,_ what happened to your face?"

"It doesn't matter ma'am. I was on prison detail and the enemy combatant requests your presence."

"What? Really?"

"Yes, she was… _violently_ insistent.

* * *

Though her cell was cool, Catra's shivers had nothing to do with the temperature. She'd never experienced a dream so vivid before, so lifelike. Even awake she could still feel echoes of the sensations. The Commander had heard the more mystically-inclined troops, like Sindri and Shadoweaver, insist that dreams had meaning, and that every detail had reason behind it. She had never put stock in such nonsense, but she now found herself skeptical of her doubts. If this nightmare was indeed telling her something, it did so loud and clear.

Her ears perked up as they caught the sound of boots upon stone approaching her position. Soon the dancing oranges and yellows of the torchlight revealed Adora's face.

"Hey Adora."

A phrase that usually simmered with a thousand feelings but for the first time in a very, very long time, it was a purely neutral greeting, all bluster removed from it.

"Sir Aldin said you woke up screaming and then demanded to see me."

"Heh, didn't know if he'd manage it, he didn't strike me as the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"Tell me what you need."

Something about that phrase hit Catra like a bullet. Any_where_ else, any_one_ else always asked what she wanted or why she'd disturbed them. 'What do you need?' So simple a phrase yet so startling a contrast.

"I…" Catra stammered, "I don't know, I don't know what I need. I just had the… easily the worst nightmare of my life and somehow my first reaction was to call out for you."

Adora was confused, she'd never seen Catra like this, she even sounded fragile and timid… it wasn't like her at all. Could this be some sort of trap? Despite everything, the lies, the tears, the scars, the betrayal… she couldn't deny her concern. Maybe that was her curse. To never give up, not on friends, not on enemies.

"What… what was it?" Adora asked plainly.

Catra took a moment before she gathered the will to answer.

"It was the Pit. I saw the Pit and they took me there."

Adora's face fell and the tiniest bit of colour drained from it.

"Oh gods, Catra I'm so-"

"Let me finish. Shadoweaver was there, Hordak was there. I was sentenced to… well, you know, because I'd been captured. I forgot that rule, or maybe I just never thought about it because I figured it'd never apply to me."

"That's how it goes, no one ever does until it actually happens."

"I can't go back, can I?"

"No." Adora replied solemnly, "No, I really don't think so."

"I can never go home… I realize it, but I don't know how to accept it."

Catra curled up, holding her knees in her arms, her whole person an expression of pensive melancholy.

"I'm not like you, Adora, I don't have anything for me beyond the Horde. You've always had it easy, always had the edge. Every day I was told how much better you were than me, _constantly_. I wanted so horrifically bad to be someone, and I thought with you out of the way I finally could be. I became stronger, more cunning but it won't matter if I go back. I'm still _disposable_, those were his words. Like a burnt-out lasrifle."

"Catra, you need to realize, you're not a weapon, you're not a tool, you're not an object."

"Then what am I? How does anyone… how are you supposed to find your place?"

"How did you find your place back home?"

"You were my place, Adora. I would have thought you understood that."

"I don't know if I can be, not because I don't want it… but I don't know if that's how it works. It's… it's like I can be there _for_ you, but I can't _be_ you for you. If that makes any sense…"

"It doesn't, really. How can you be anyone without someone?"

Adora sighed, still too sleepy to be anything approaching eloquent at this hour. She supposed actions were louder anyway. She reached over and took the keys from the side of the wall and opened the cell door, but rather than letting Catra out, she let herself in, much to the former's confusion.

"Uhh, what are you doing?"

"I said I can be here for you, so that's what I'm doing."

Adora slowly, ponderously trudged over and helped herself to Catra's prison cot. Far from being bothered by it, she found its rough sheets and hard surface familiar, relaxing. Had the Commander not suddenly and loudly protested she may have dozed off immediately.

"What the Hell?! Where am I supposed to sleep now?"

"Where you used to." she said, extending her arm in an invite to a nearly forgotten habit. Nearly.

Without any thought, Catra's mind somehow dismissed the year of near-solitude, the year of pain between them, and nestled in. For this one night, for this one moment it was like things were as they were, as they _should_ be. In the morning it would probably go back to the way it was, nemesis, enemy, captive… but for tonight she could desperately pretend, desperately savour every instant. She couldn't help but almost curl around Adora, drawing in her heat in defiance of the slight chill of the dungeon. It felt so right, but she couldn't help but wonder.

"Adora?"

"Hmm?"

"Won't you get in some serious hot water? Why do you risk it?"

The blonde girl turned to face her.

"Remember the first time we shared a bunk? Back when we were younger?"

"Yeah, it was the night after we first trained with live ammunition and you took neuro-plasma fire to your right leg."

"Even after the mortitheurge grafted new skin it still stung and burned horribly."

"I know, I heard you sniffle in the cot below me."

"Even that was me holding back as much as I could, and even years later I cringe when I think about it."

"I felt like I couldn't leave you there. I still remember how you shivered."

"You held me, wrapped your arms around me until the tremors stopped and didn't let go the entire night."

"I never forgot how warm you felt, or how I slept better that night than I ever had before."

"Then you held me again the next night, and the one after that. Even when the nerve damage had run its course you kept coming down, you kept being there for me."

"Yeah…"

"That's what I'm talking about, Catra. You're a good person, kind and compassionate. You weren't afraid to be there when it mattered. Maybe something tells you that it wasn't important, but it was for me, more than you can even imagine."

"So I really _was_ useful."

"No, that's not it. I'm trying to tell you that I didn't protect you because I wanted you to be lean on me, I was trying to repay everything you did for me, all the love you'd shown me."

"Does that mean after tonight we're even?"

"Never, this isn't transactional. I… I guess I'm trying to thank you for being _you_. There isn't a scoreboard, no obligations, and no tallies. I do this because I want to, not because I have to, because I'm free. I am free to be a good person here because who I am is not a punishable offense. You can have that same freedom too."

"What if who I am isn't a good person?"

"Maybe you think so, but I have faith in you. Deep in my heart I have a feeling even Shadoweaver isn't powerful enough to erase who you are inside. You've spent your whole life trying to prove to someone you're strong, but there's really only person you need to convince."

"And who might that be?"

"Yourself. You are so, so much stronger than you think you are."


	12. Canto XII

Glimmer all but skipped down the hall in giddy stride. Knowing now that this would be the first Twinmoon Festival that Adora had ever celebrated, the Princess decided she'd give her friend the grand tour. First the castle grounds and the city proper and the to Thaymor to the west, not to mention the quaint little hamlets along the way. She began with a light tap on the door, but was puzzled when there was no reply. The Sun itself didn't wake up earlier than Adora. She kept knocking harder and harder until she threatened to shake the door off its hinges. Her patience grew thin but found it replaced by curiosity… tinged with irritation after fifteen minutes of knocking, yes, but curiosity nonetheless.

"Adora, have you gone deaf?"

Her words went as unanswered as her knocks, prompting a search around the chambers. When that yielded nothing her puzzlement only multiplied.

* * *

The early morning sunrise filtered in through the bars to leave a pattern of golden bands upon the sleeping occupants of the cell. The light shined a ray into Catra's eye, putting an end to her rest. She was quickly reminded of her surroundings and her still-sleeping guest. The ex-Commander stretched, taking care not to wake the girl beside her. Despite her efforts, her elbows did slightly bump into the other's hips and at first she feared waking her. Catra's attention was soon caught by the sound of a jingle, and saw the jail keys just laying on Adora's lap, there for the taking. Lightning itself could not match the speed at which she grabbed them and wasted no time beginning to undo the lock to her prison.

Yet…

Despite the best chance anyone could ask for, an easy out, she found herself having to fight something in her gut; a quiet shout that wrenched all ease of action. Yes, she could escape, open this door and sneak out of Brightmoon to never be heard from again. Where would she go, though? The Horde would have her head if she were to return and she doubted any of the Rebellion states would be interested in letting her roam free.

Her shoulders fell and her ears drooped in turn, as she was seeing no alternative or recourse to her situation. Ironically this cell was currently the least dangerous place for her at the present moment. She shuffled back to the cot and sat down on it. Though she did so with what she thought was great care, the motion roused Adora from her slumber. After slowly opening her eyes the first thing she saw was a dejected Catra seated next to her. In her hands were the keys, their metal catching the morning light and refracting it in a dozen ways. The true surprise was that Catra had them, and yet she remained here. Adora smiled.

"I'm proud of you."

The feline girl sighed, "What's to be proud about? I don't have anywhere to go, and no future. What would even be the point of escape?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm happy you're still here."

"You're welcome, I guess."

"Hey, just be quiet and take the compliment, okay?"

Adora reached out her hand to hold Catra's cheek, who brought a paw up to meet it only to softly lay it down.

"I'm sorry Adora, but…"

The look of pain in Adora's eyes was unmistakable.

"But what-"

"**ADORA!"**

Glimmer's voice echoed off the stone walls and the sparkles that served as the after-effect of her teleportation didn't even have time to dissipate before she stomped over to the cell.

"What in the name of every star in the heavens do you think you're doing?"

Catra hissed like an angry viper.

"What's it to you, _pintsize?_"

A hand raised and a pinkish glow began, but before any magic missiles could be fired, Adora stepped between them.

"Enough!"

She got the keys back from Catra and let herself out, feeling more than a little guilty leaving the latter inside the cell. As soon as Adora was out, another violet flash and the two of them were gone.

* * *

Back in Adora's room, Glimmer's fury began in earnest.

"What were you thinking?! Do you not realize what could have happened?!"

"She wasn't going to hurt me!"

"That would be a first, but that's not what I'm talking about. Do you have any idea the nightmare it would have been if someone else caught you?! If it got out it would be a disaster of every kind!"

"So what? I'm not in the Horde, I thought… whatever that was… was allowed in Brightmoon."

"It is, but that's not the problem."

"Okay, it was a bit unorthodox, I'll admit-"

"No, Adora, you don't understand. As the She-Ra you're not just a powerful warrior, you're a symbol to the people of the Rebellion. If people think you're somehow compromised, then the loss to morale could be devastating, not to mention an erosion of faith in the Second Princess Alliance. People could think you were a spy, or that you've been fooled by one. You have no idea how much political maneuvering I had to do in order for people to trust you. Back then I had the 'destined warrior princess' card to play, and even with that I barely pulled it off. My reputation still hasn't fully recovered, and if anyone else were to see you snuggling with the second-in-command of the Evil Horde… well, you're my friend and I'd stand up for you no matter what, but there's no way I could win that fight. I still have people who accuse you of being a double-agent, and this would play right into their hands. While we're on the topic, how do you know she isn't a spy herself? For all we know her plan is to gain your trust so she can get in a position to learn our secrets, or worse, assassinate you! I mean c'mon, you're one of the biggest obstacles to their victory and removing you would be a major win!"

"No, not this time, Glimmer. The Horde executes anyone who gets captured and dares to return. She doesn't, she _can't_ work for them anymore, so just give her a chance the way you did for me. I haven't let you down have I?"

"It's not that simple. Even if you're right and she's magically turned over a new leaf, no one but us is going to believe it."

"That's all that matters to me, who cares what anyone else thinks? " Adora said, crossing her arms indignantly.

"Then you don't understand the responsibility of being a Princess of Power. The perception of the public is vital in maintaining the war effort, and more to the point, finishing it. I know full well that I come across as a hard-liner, but believe me, that's only because I want this whole bloody business over. The longer it goes on the more people get hurt, and I'll be damned if _you_ end up one of the casualties. That and more is why I'm committed to seeing it won."

"So what? Just avoid any attempts at redemption because complete strangers may not approve?"

Glimmer stepped up to Adora grabbing her hand in a friendly, sympathetic gesture far removed from the vinegar shown only a moment ago.

"Of course not, all I mean is that you need to be careful how you play this. I know you, I know you like to charge headlong into things like a battering ram but sometimes that's not the way to go about it. This is one of those times."

"Then how _should_ I play this?"

"I'm not sure, but if we put our heads together I'm sure we'll come up with something."


	13. Canto XIII

The Best Friend Squad gathered into what was once Glimmer's hidden armory. While it's existence was no longer a secret, the walls remained very much sans ears, and cleared of its stockpile there was elbow room enough for them to hold their informal council. Glimmer began.

"Okay Adora, now that we're all here, tell us what happened. How exactly did you end up in… the cell with Catra?"

Bow nodded, "You really ought to thank your lucky stars she was the only one to walk in on you."

"I know," Adora sighed.

In the cold light of day she had to admit that really wasn't the smartest of moves.

Glimmer continued, "So since it's just us, take us through last night. No judgment here, we're your friends."

Adora couldn't help but smile at that. It seemed each day brought her new reasons to be thankful for friends like these.

"Well, it started with our talk the other day."

"Oh yeah," said Bow, "how'd that go?"

"For once I can actually say I think it went well. I saw a spark, like something finally clicked for her."

Glimmer smiled, "That's got to be encouraging. What exactly did you say?"

"Simple really, I asked her what she wanted."

"Really?" asked Bow, "the answer was that easy this whole time?"

"Well no, there's more to it than that. I asked her what she'd want if Hordak and the whole rogue's gallery were gone. She's never known any kind of freedom, certainly not the kind I found here. Hell, the concept _still_ boggles my mind."

Glimmer was admittedly a bit confused, "You didn't, and she still doesn't, know what being able to make your own decisions is like? From where I'm standing absolute control is proving way harder to wrap my head around."

"There's a comfort to it, in its own way. Wake up at the same time, every hour of every day is planned for you, you know who you are, what to do, where to be. A stable peace, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, it's almost nice to not have to think for yourself."

"Sorry," said Bow, scratching his head, "still not getting it."

"Consider that a blessing, but I guess what I'm trying to do is find a way to explain the kind of place we came from."

Glimmer nodded, knowingly, "So, what did Catra say when you asked her that?"

"Absolutely nothing. She just had this look on her face and stood there speechless. It's probably not something she's ever been asked before, and I think I touched a nerve. I even went to bed hopeful."

Bow replied, "So what happened?"

"Middle of the night, Aldin knocks on my door telling me that Catra asked for me after waking up screaming."

"Screaming?" asked Bow, "What on earth about?"

"A nightmare, one that apparently shook her up enough that all her bravado went out the door."

Glimmer interjected, "But how do you know that this isn't an act or some other kind of bluff?"

"When Catra bluffs, its always as someone more confident than she actually is, always as someone with control of the situation. She _never_ pretends to be vulnerable."

Bow spoke up next, "So what you're saying is that maybe the bluff is the confidence, and the frightened woman is real?"

"There's probably some truth to that."

"So," said Glimmer, "what kind of dream could be so earth-shattering as to finally crack her obnoxious, cocky facade?"

"She had a nightmare about a place called The Pit."

"What's The Pit?" asked Bow.

"Short version; the worst, most terrifying place in the Fright Zone."

Glimmer couldn't help but almost chuckle awkwardly a bit, "Sounds like a prize with some stiff competition."

"I'm deadly serious. It's where Hordak sends the worst offenders, traitors, spies, or anyone else he wants to suffer unimaginably. If you get sent to The Pit, you don't come out."

"Wait," said Glimmer, horrified, "you mean the Horde still has the death penalty? The whole 'off with her head' Dark Ages execution thing?"

Adora shook her head, "Not exactly. Sure, death comes, but it does so slowly. _Very_ slowly."

"I don't understand," replied the Princess, and the perplexed look on her face was mirrored by Bow.

"The people he sends to The Pit, he wants them to suffer. He's not doing it to interrogate or extract information, he's inflicting pain for its own sake, often to send a message. That's what Catra had a nightmare about, being sent to a place where they inflict horrible, excruciating pain on you for days on end. That's what she saw, and that's why I came down and held her through the night."

Bow gulped, "I can see your point… I guess I'm not surprised she woke up screaming, then. I think anyone would."

"Oh it gets worse. As horrible as her nightmare was, she's never actually been there, she just knows the rumours that the other soldiers whisper, really she's got no idea."

"Wait," said Glimmer, her voice a mixture of concern and fear, "what are you saying Adora?"

"I'm saying that I know the truth about The Pit because I've been there. I've seen the real thing, and the stories don't do it any justice."

Bow; "I thought you said people don't come back from it?"

"For the most part yes, but there is the rare exception. When I was younger, Shadoweaver gave me the 'honour' of watching the sentence of a traitor be carried out. I think I lasted maybe five minutes before I ran out in tears." Both watched Adora shiver at that. "That man's shrieks will haunt me until the end of time."

"Just… wow." replied Glimmer, dumbfounded. "I had a feeling you saw things in the Horde but I… gods, how do you sleep at night?"

"Sometimes not all that well. I left a lot of horrifying things behind me, and they only get worse now I'm gone because back there they were standard. I have to be honest with you guys, anytime I'm shown kindness here, when I'm reminded that there's another way and always has been, it kills me inside. It peels away the ugly truth that what I knew as a child was full of atrocities. There are times when I… when I didn't lift a finger because whatever was happening was so normalized that I thought nothing of it. Even when I did, the line was that they deserved it, and that the punishment fit the crime… When I talked to George and Lance, they said there was darkness in me. Pretty sure they have no clue how right they were."

Both of her friends were silent, though in plain shock, with eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Adora took this as cue to conclude.

"That's what I'm trying to get Catra away from. I'm trying to free her and change her mind, but that is what I'm up against. Not just her pain and rage, but a lifetime of indoctrination and acclimation to things no one should even have to think about, much less see again and again. That's why I need your help. My instructors told me to ask for help is weakness, but I don't see how I can fight all that by myself."

"How…" stammered Glimmer, "how did you survive?"

"She and I helped each other survive and make do in a world we had no idea was monstrous or abnormal. Thankfully I had you two to show me out of that hell. Now it's time for me to be the guiding light and help Catra out of the dark."


	14. Canto XIV

Guarding the Horde ex-Commander had recently become the most dreaded post among the guards of Brightmoon. So infamous in fact, that assignment of a shift or two had become a threat and a punishment issued to soldiers who didn't pull their weight or otherwise fell lax in their duties. Today of all days was especially frightful as the prisoner's ambient, sullen contempt had graduated this morning to a full-blown outburst of rabid fury the likes of which neither of the two guards assigned today had ever seen. Catra's shouts of ire could probably be heard from a hundred leagues as an absolute wrath overtook every atom of her body.

"STUPID!" she roared, and while this was the only thought voiced, her mind was afire with uncounted even more manic ones.

_Stupid, stupid, __stupid!__ One tiny little nightmare and you take to mewling like a startled infant?! __PATHETIC__**!**_

As she slashed her claws across the stone wall, she left marks in the stone like a jagged wound.

_Pathetic, disgusting, soft, weak! How could this happen? How in the name of the howling void of oblivion could this happen? Oh Catra… oh Catra you complete __waste__ of skin, you know the answer to that. You know why. It's because you __let__ it happen, you let your guard down for a single bloody instant, just like with the stars!_

She grabbed her pillow and flung it with herculean force against the window to the outside in some vain attempt to eclipse her view of the sky.

_And for what?! A single night of cuddling up with your arch-nemesis!_

Turning a single look to the bed, the scene of her crime, she leapt onto it with the fervour of a starving predator, and with tooth and nail she began to shred and tear apart the fabric until it looked like the remains of a gutted animal.

_These sheets, these linens, they still __smell__ like her, they stink of the deserter princess, the turncoat heartbr-_

"**NO!" **she wailed.

_**I have no heart!**__ No heart to break, no temptation to sin against the unwritten doctrine of strength! No chains to love or affection or sentiment, nothing! Nothing but unsullied, blessed __hatred__, and no prison can hold me, certainly not this paltry birdcage!_

Discarding all sense or caution, she threw her clenched fist, aiming straight for the iron bars that mocked her. When struck, there was the slightest of tremors and a faint ringing like a wind chime, but the metal yielded not. As her hand made contact with the ferrous column she felt several bones crack, even shatter, and her tendons rend and tear. Blood vessels burst from the force of the impact and in no time at all she watched an angry violet bruise spread from knuckles to wrist like the spill of an upturned inkwell.

How much of her banshee's scream could be blamed on injury and how much her rancour even she had no clue. She could not stop the corrosive tears that fell like acid rain down her cheeks, even as she remembered the presence of her guards. In her pain Catra howled the most vile curses and blood-chilling swears that either sentry had ever heard, heresies that paled their faces and sent frigid shivers down their spines. It took both a moment to snap back to something resembling their normal faculties.

"Good gods, look at her hand!"

"What happened?"

"I don't know, just get Lissuin down here!"

"The hedge-witch, what the hell for?"

"Look at her!"

"So? She's a Hordeling, why do we care?"

"Because it's our job, idiot! Don't you remember why we're down here? We're in enough trouble as it is, so go before we both get court-martial!"

* * *

Like a caged tiger, Catra paced purposefully back and forth in her cell, doing her best to occupy her mind with potential escape routes from this dungeon and then the entire kingdom of Brightmoon, all to numb the pain that seethed beneath the skin of her hand. She found, however, that her mind wandered far and often. Perhaps, she theorized, it was the present lack of guards that siphoned some of the urgency, because instead she kept circling back to that night, when she'd failed so utterly, putting her weakness on full display. Why? Maybe she'd hoped that it could be some discreet, sordid transgression known only to her and Adora, but then that little pink brat came and ruined it. Catra growled in hatred at the very mention, the very thought of her; _Glitter_… or whatever her name was.

As she had so many times these past weeks, Adora approached the prisoner.

"Biting the healer, really?"

"I won't let some Brightmoon witch lay a finger on me. If they hadn't pulled me off I would have clawed her eyes out too."

"Gods, just when I thought you'd made a breakthrough, when I thought there was a chance…"

"So does that mean you're finally giving up on me? Took you long enough."

Something about that comment snapped Adora, and a great anger boiled up to the surface as she shouted, "How _dare_ you! I come down here night after night, I'm the only one who's willing to try and fix anything, even though you keep slapping my hand away again and again! The only person here who gave up on you, is you!"

"Oh no, Princess, you don't get to play the victim card, not now, not ever! You chose to walk away from everything, from your whole world!"

"I wanted you to come with me! Would I have done that if I wanted to leave _everything_ behind?"

"Why did you have to leave at all?! Why did any of this have to happen?!"

"Why the hell did you stay? You've always hated everyone and everything there, you dreamed about leaving all the time but as soon as I give you a chance you go back to it? What's it got you?"

Adora lunged forward and grabbed Catra's injured wrist.

"Look at this, look at what they've done to you! _This_ is what their mind games have done! It's all you will ever get from them!"

"And what do you have, Adora?! You think you have anything more or better to offer?"

"Yes! Gods, yes. How do you not see that? How much more obvious do you want me to make it? I'm trying so hard, I'm putting up with so much, all so I can bring you to a place where you don't get hurt like this anymore."

"Joke's on you, I found a way to get hurt anyway, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"That's not something to be proud of! Besides," Adora said with a sly smile, "there actually is something I can do."

She brandished the bracelet-form of her sword and channeled a small measure of its restorative power, lighting her hand with a glow like golden morning sunlight.

"**No,"** said Catra bluntly, pulling her hand away, "you keep that away from me."

"Do you want my help or not?"

"I'd rather get a hook for a hand!"

"You would accept permanent injury rather than take any chance to make it better? Isn't that just this whole debacle in a nutshell? I'm not going to just let it fester until it falls off."

"It's… it's just a bruise Adora."

"You trying to write it off pretty much guarantees that it's worse than you'll admit."

Catra scoffed, "What? Don't act like you know me."

"If I don't, who does? I mean, who else have you even gotten close to letting in?"

"Yeah, and look where that got me; hurt. Why would I let you do that again, only this time with physical pain?"

"What are you talking about-"

Adora suddenly remembered the Horde's excruciating approach to medicine. Whatever procedure was done, it was never done with anesthetic. Lacerations would be sewn together with serrated needles dipped in reagents that only made the pain of stitching even worse, even surgeries would often be performed while the patient was partly or fully awake. Conventional operations were administered by the gleefully sadistic pain-doctors, and more arcane remedies were conjured by mortitheurges; the Horde's equivalent to magical healers, whose spells were always accompanied by agony like lightning that shot through the whole of your senses. In both cases, recovery was achieved, but always with additional torment on top that served as punishment for the failure of being wounded in the first place.

"I promise Catra, it won't be like that. I won't even have to touch you. Let me fix at least this one small thing."

Catra wanted to continue her defiant front, but also couldn't deny that fact that her hand really was in dire straits. She also couldn't forget who would always hold her hand as the pain-doctors did their grisly work… Letting out a long sigh she held out her hand, bracing herself for the unavoidable sting to come. Yet as soon as Adora waved her hand and Catra saw that same gentle light from earlier emanate from her wound, a soft warmth flooded the point of injury. She could actually feel her body be remade, but without any of the expected agony. In mere moments the bruise faded away as though it had never happened at all.

"That…" she stammered, dumbfounded, "that didn't hurt at all. That… hell, that actually felt _nice_. How? How did you do that without-"

"Our whole lives we were raised to believe that the only answer to pain is more pain. I thought that was the only way it happened too, the only way _anything_ happened, but it's not. I'm not trying to sell you a pipe dream, this is real and it's better, more so than they'd ever have you think."


	15. Canto XV

Far below the surface floors of the castle at a depth to rival even the dungeons rested the great Archives, wherein lay the vast trove of records and knowledge hoarded across the centuries by rulers of Brightmoon past. Glimmer sat amongst this library at a stone table, burdened by various means of archival. Great columns of books atop one another and reams of scrolls jaundiced with age rested next to stacks of data crystals; relics hailing from elder days when the light of the First Ones had yet to dim from the world.

Though sunlight never made it this far beneath, Glimmer could sense that it was very late, though really she had reached a tired state hours ago. She ignored this, too captive to her focus to stop, and certainly too absorbed to hear the arrival of Bow. He tapped the princess on the shoulder, startling her.

"Sorry, sorry." Bow said, "I've been trying to find you."

"Oh… oh, okay, what for?"

"Because I haven't seen you for a long while and I was starting to get a bit worried."

"Wait, how long have I been down here?"

"Somewhere in the neighborhood of five to six hours. What exactly are you looking for down here?"

She let out an exhausted sigh, "Anything really. I've been trying to think of some solution to get Catra out of prison, and I thought that maybe there was some kind of legal maneuver or loophole I could use."

"Huh, now there's a surprise. I never figured you'd stick your neck out for _her_ of all people."

"Oh don't get me wrong, this is **entirely** for Adora's sake, or would be if I'd found anything. I've gone through tons of this junk with nothing to show for it, and that's just what I can actually access to begin with. Some of these are written in Old Speech, activated by a spell I don't know, or gods forbid _both."_

Glimmer slumped in her chair, clear indication of her exasperation in echo of her voice.

"Worst part is I don't think I've so much as scratched the surface of this place, I'll be down here for a hundred years at this rate."

"Would it go faster if I pitched in? Many hands, light work and all that."

"Oh I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, certainly not my…" she blushed, chuckling somewhat awkwardly. "it's funny, I don't know what to call you all of a sudden. I was going to say 'best friend' but that's not the whole story anymore. 'Boyfriend' is so boring and plain, but 'partner' just sounds clinical. I guess I could say 'lover' but that seems a little much."

"Well, whatever you decide on, I'll still be good old Bow."

"Heh, yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"So about that, Glimmer…"

"Mm?"

"How long exactly have you known about… you know, these feelings?"

"That's a tough call. For the most part I'd say it was pretty gradual. I can't really pinpoint some specific moment. The feelings, they never really turned from one thing into something else. It didn't so much change as it did grow."

"I think I know what you mean, it's not as if all that much is really different now."

"Exactly, and it's weird, I never… I never thought that's how it'd go."

"How do you mean?"

"I just didn't picture it like this. It's silly, but a part of me thought it was going to be like the storybooks, one big moment, some clearly defined 'before' and 'after'… but that's not how it happened.

"Do you find that disappointing?"

"That's not the word. It's… there's this worry that without that it's somehow not real because of that."

"I don't think so, I certainly hope not anyway. Just because it's not some fairy tale beginning doesn't mean it's insincere. If anything I bet it's the opposite. I mean, how did your parents meet?"

"That's part of the problem. I have no idea how they met, and Mom barely says word-one about him anymore."

"I guess it must hurt too much."

"Which is _exactly_ why I don't press the issue, but where does that leave me? I'm sitting here without even the tiniest idea of how love starts, how to make it last, _anything_. I have some very faint memories of them together, and while none of them were bad, I was way too young to consider taking notes or something. Maybe I'm doing this wrong or maybe even accidentally right, but there isn't any real way for me to tell. Heck, there's a part of me that wonders if it was a good idea in the first place."

"So wait, did you mean it when you said 'yes?'"

"I did, of _course_ I meant it, but was it a smart idea to say so? We're fighting a war that's already taken my father from me, who else is it going to take? How many near-misses and narrow escapes have we had already? Is it worth letting someone into your life when… when they can just disappear, when they can get taken just like _that?"_ she punctuated with a snap of her fingers.

"Would saying 'no' have changed how you feel at all?"

"Not really, but it's just that I've seen what it's done to her, Bow. The older I get the better I'm able to see how much it hurts, how badly she misses him. I've got to be… I must be absolutely _crazy_ for inviting that kind of pain."

"Maybe, but you said 'yes' anyway. So why?"

"Because I wanted to… because it felt right."

"Well, I'm no romance-expert either, but that sounds pretty real to me."

He watched as she stared off into the distance, a wistful smile forming on her face, much to his bemusement.

"What?" he asked.

"You were right, you're still 'good old Bow.' Please never change."


	16. Canto XVI

Catra leaned her back against the stone, observing the stars only out of the corner of her eyes. She refused to be caught gazing again, and so disguised her activity so as to give herself a measure of plausible deniability. She could not help but wonder exactly these 'stars' were. What caused them to shine, how far away were they, and how long had they been there? Were they a consequence of some sorcerer's magic or had they always been here, present since the very birth of the world… or even before it? When exactly did the world begin?

There was so very much she did not know, Adora's healing had made that abundantly clear. On its surface that could easily be mistaken for the tiniest of things, but it was not some pithy phrase she now questioned, it was something she'd believed a fundamental truth of the universe. If that cornerstone was a lie, then everything built on it was like a house upon the sand, washed away by the tide to leave nothing in its place. She smiled at the aptness of that, Adora was nothing if not someone who made waves wherever she went. Again and again she'd crashed onto Catra's life and it had always stung… until now. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and the ex-Commander didn't know what to do with it. Her first instinct had been to reject it, as that was how she dealt with pain, but what confronted her _wasn't_ painful, and to that she had no answer. So easily had she accepted that pain was the way of life, never being told there was any alternative and never imagining either.

The mark of a cunning strategist was to pursue all avenues, and if presented with more optimal means then only a fool would fail to seize the opportunity. Perhaps that was what was before her now; opportunity… but to do what exactly? What was her objective, what was her target, and what victory would she be chasing now? Not the war, she no longer cared about that. The Horde had turned its back and she could never imagine any place for herself in the Rebellion. Still, life needs goals, does it not? Just as it needed pain, it needed enemies to inflict it, and thus enemies to enact vengeance upon for said pain. She'd never entertained the thought, but that was quite the circular logic, wasn't it? Take away that pain though, and what then, where did that leave the tautology she'd based her life around? Was purpose itself an illusion? Her questions seemed numerous as the stars.

She was certain of nothing, and that included how she felt when the now-familiar tread of Adora's boots upon the cobbled floor rang out yet again. Greetings seemed superfluous at this point, and without any pleasantries Adora began the exchange.

"So, are we going to talk about the other night?"

Catra almost scoffed, but her heart wasn't in even that whisper-thin defiance.

"What's to talk about? It was a moment of weakness."

"Yours or mine?

"Both probably, if we're being honest."

"Then it's a weakness I'm not sorry for."

At first Catra's only response was a barely audible mumble.

"Come again?" asked Adora.

"If that's your attitude how do you keep winning? It doesn't matter how much you mess up, doesn't matter how much I get right, you keep winning. Over and over and over. Whether it's Shadoweaver's approval or the whole war, you get to run the victory lap. Every time I think maybe, just _maybe_ I've finally got the upper hand it falls to pieces. I lose to you and I lose to the Rebellion, who practically worships weakness…"

"Well I suppose that leaves you with two options, doesn't it? Either strength isn't everything or what you define as 'weakness' isn't."

"Then what is it?"

"Maybe it's power."

"Power… end of the day that's all I have ever wanted, no, _needed_, down to my bones, except by some sick twist it's either not enough or denied to me entirely. But you, all you've ever known is power. You get lost in the woods and just _stumble_ into an ancient magic sword?! What's that even like, how does that feel? How does it feel when all you have to do is wave a piece of scrap metal in the air, say some magic words and suddenly become a goddess?"

"Mainly I'd say 'weird,' especially the first time. As soon as I touched the handle my mind was just overwhelmed with insane amounts of knowledge all at once. It was like being drowned with flashes of lightning, that's the best way I can think to describe it."

"Well then, that settles it. You really _are_ brain damaged."

They both let out a weak chuckle, a joke made long ago, but the wistfulness was stained by a twinge of bitter nostalgia. For many long minutes they sat silent before Catra spoke again.

"You ever wonder what would have happened if you never found that stupid thing? What you might have been? You had a pretty bright future ahead, you would have had power even if you stuck around."

"Except I don't think it's ever been power that I wanted, at most it was just means to an end. I wanted to set people free, from want, from fear, from oppression… I just figured if I had enough of it I could make everything right. Before I saw Thaymor I didn't realize just how severe it was, but I think there was always a tiny suspicion that things could be better, that something was wrong and needed to be fixed or at least improved. Maybe that's why leaving the Horde didn't take a lot of convincing."

"That was our plan, though, we were going to take over, become the leaders of the Horde and change things. Then you tossed that aside at the drop of a hat, and now thanks to you and your Rebellion even I can't follow through. You took my purpose from me, what gives you the right?"

"What do you think would have happened if you'd become in charge? You would have eventually had to face the same question as you are now. If your whole reason to be is to climb the ladder, what happens when you get to the top?"

"I would have been free to decide for myself! I would have been able to become who I wanted on my terms because I would finally not have to take orders from anyone, that was the whole bloody point!"

"Don't you see though? You can have that, you can have that level of agency right now! You don't need a promotion or anyone's permission to be happy, you can just… just _have_ it! It's like you have the keys in your hand but won't open the door!"

Adora watched Catra's scowl slowly melt away to be replaced by dawning realization. Was this it, had she finally gotten through to her, finally said the right thing and shown Catra out of the dark at last?

"You know what…" Catra said, with an almost dumbfounded joy in her voice, "you're right. I _should_ have left, I should have opened that door and run away. I can't believe it, but you actually helped out. You've given me new purpose and I know what I have to do. If freedom is something I can have right now, all I have to do is get out of here! I never thought I would say this again, but thank you. Oh, and since I'll probably escape before you get time to come down here again, goodbye. Goodbye for real this time, Adora."

Catra said all of this with a genuine smile, and that sincerity was somehow a dozen-fold more unnerving than any overtly hostile expression. Adora absolutely paled in fear.

"N-no… no no **no**, that's not what I meant Catra! I didn't mean that, I meant… I don't know exactly what I meant but I certainly didn't mean _leave!"_

"Who cares what you _meant_ when what you _said_ was right? Gods… all this time I resented you for leaving, but you were actually showing me the answer. All I have to do is go, just like you and I'll be free and I won't have to see Hordak, Shadoweaver, or She-Ra ever again! Oh Adora I could _kiss_ you right now!"

Catra sighed happily, letting herself fall onto her bed and laughing bright and clear all the while. That laugh was something Adora had ached to hear, but not like this. In no time at all her hopes had shattered into a thousand, thousand pieces, replaced by a panic that permeated every muscle in her body. No words made their way to her mind, instead all she did was run, run as though a swarm of dæmons chased her… something she may well have preferred.

* * *

"So tell me again, why exactly you had to get that close?"

Aldin only sighed as he was teased by the senior guardsman. "You had to be there, Percival. She was screaming and babbling, shaking even… some kind of nightmare, I think."

"So? Let her have a nightmare. It's the _least_ she deserves after what she and her forces have done to us. Hell, did you get a look at Princess Glimmer last time she squared off against that Hordeling? Her Highness came back looking like she'd tried to arm-wrestle a starving kroot hound!"

"I suppose but I-"

The junior knight never received a chance to even finish his sentence before he saw Lady Adora practically skid into the guardhouse with a terrified and manic look in her eyes. He dreaded whatever she needed this time, hoping to gods that it didn't involve the Horde Commander, but he nevertheless put on his best professional face and saluted.

"Lady Adora, what is it?"

Panting and somewhat out of breath she replied. "The prisoner…"

_Just my luck…_ thought Aldin.

"The prisoner, she's… she will be attempting escape, and soon. I need, uh, let's double the guards, double… double **everything!"**

"Ma'am," he said, trying to calm her, "I can assure you that we're already taking every precaution, there's no need-"

Suddenly he found himself lifted into the air, face to face with a stern and deadly serious glare courtesy of Adora. Despite their moderate distance, he could hear Percival gulp in fear before speaking.

"I think, Aldin, Her Ladyship has made herself clear."


End file.
